Mistake?
by Stone Jackal
Summary: Doctor Temperance Brennan wakes up with a splitting headache. And an arm around her.
1. Awakening

**Title**: Awakening 

**Summery**: Doctor Temperance Brennan awoke with a splitting headache. And an arm around her.

**Disclaimer**: I'm broke. How could I afford a TV show?

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Doctor Temperance Brennan awoke with a splitting headache. The light pouring into the window pricked at her eyes. Pressing the heels of her hands over them, she cursed Angela for making her go with the rest of the team for drinks the night before, cursed herself for allowing herself to be convinced to going along . They had just closed a particularly difficult case involving a five-year-old girl. She had been same age as Booth's son Parker.

Groaning, Tempe rolled over to bury her face in the pillow. But as she did so, she felt her arm brush against something. Skin on skin. The feeling made her bolt upright in bed, her head temporarily forgotten.

Her eyes nearly bulged when she saw someone sprawled out beside her. He lay on his side, one arm stuffed under his pillow, the other flung out. His broad, muscular shoulders and chest were bare, and a blanket skimmed him to his waist. She recognized him immediately.

"What," Tempe gasped. What had she done? What had _they_ done? She scrubbed her hands over her face, and then her eye caught the glint from something on her left hand. "What," She murmured again, studying the ring that circled the ring finger on her left hand.

She searched her mind for any recollection from the night before but everything was hazy; both her heart and her head were pounding. Desperate, she looked at herself, finding that she was clothed in only an oversized Federal Bureau of Investigation t-shirt, falling to mid-thigh. It wasn't hers. It was something that would most likely fit _him_. Her breathing was rapid, her heart racing as she looked around the room; finding herself in unfamiliar but recognizable territory. The room was decorated in rich earthy tones and dark, masculine colors, with navy blue walls and dark wood trim.

She was working herself into a frenzy.

By now he was beginning to stir. He rolled over, bleary eyed and looked up at her. Something clicked in his mind as he sprung upright, his eyes huge.

"Bones?" He gaped.

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Like it? Hate it? R&R. Let me know. Should I continue?


	2. The Morning After

**Title**: The Morning After

**Disclaimer: **The same as the last chapter. Bones is not mine, no matter how hard I may wish.

**Summery**: A bit of discovery.

**Author's Note: **I couldn't believe it when I checked all the reviews for the first chapter. Thirty reviews! Now I have to continue, even if I didn't want to! If you have any ideas on what you think should happen, let me know. And please keep reviewing!

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After much debating, a bit of shouting and discovering, both had calmed down enough to think rationally. Sort of. Booth had found a slightly crumbled marriage certificate resting on the nightstand beside him. Both of their names were sloppily scrawled on it. Booth had also found a ring matching hers on his own hand. Being the crime solvers that they were; they tried to piece together what had happened the night before. But neither could remember a thing past midnight.

While Tempe balanced on the edge of the bed and tried to regain control of her breathing, Booth paced the room, occasionally raking his hand through his hair.

"What are we going to do?" Each of them had asked that question almost every two minutes.

"I don't know," The other answered each time.

Finally, Tempe's headache had begun to take control again, "Booth sit down. You're giving me whiplash." She wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling nauseous.

Booth plopped down on the bed about a foot away from her. He sighed heavily. They both lapsed into an uneasy, awkward silence.

Tempe looked over at Booth. He had pulled on a pair of faded, wrinkled blue jeans the rested at his hips, and a forest green button up shirt. He hadn't bothered with the buttons. She slid her gaze over his exposed torso and chest, much like she had the day he'd answered the door half dressed. She tried to block the image of Tessa strutting in, clad in his white shirt, a lacey black bra peeking out over the undone top buttons. Tempe looked down at herself, still clothed in his oversized tee. Ironic, she thought.

Booth looked over at Tempe. He could feel her studying him, so he studied her right back. She looked small, swathed in his shirt. She had tugged the dark blue fabric down over her knees, then began to pluck at a loose thread in the hem. She looked vulnerable, may even a little scared. He didn't want her to be scared though the pit of his stomach was in knots. He wasn't sure how everything had happened, but he wasn't sure what to do about it either.

"What are you thinking?" Tempe asked, unable to sit through his stares and the silence any longer. She needed something other than how sick she was feeling to think about.

"I was thinking that you look much better in that shirt than I do," The words popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

"What!" She exclaimed, startled.

Booth mentally kicked himself. Why didn't he think before he spoke? He hoped her exclamation was rhetorical. It wasn't.

"Why did you say that?" Her voice had almost returned to normal from the previous shock.

Booth scooted over closer to her, "Because it's true. "

Tempe's knee brushed against Booth's. Strangely, the contact didn't feel foreign. It felt familiar. Tempe's already speeding heart revved up. At the same time her heart pumped because of his touch, her mind was reacting to his statement. She didn't feel pretty at the moment. Right now, she felt like she was going to throw up.

He knew what she was going to do. She was uncomfortable with the topic, so she was going to change it to one she felt more comfortable with. One where she was more in control.

"What are we going to do about our present situation?" She asked, then her fingers reached up and touched her throat. Booth was taken aback by how pale she looked.

"Bones, do you feel okay?"

She shook her head, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Right through that door," He pointed for her.

She leapt to her feet and bolted. She tried to close the door behind her, but the latch didn't quite catch. He could hear her retching.

"Do you need any help Bones?" He got off the bed, and tapped his knuckles against the door.

"No," Was the feeble response. She began to retch again. Booth stood at the door for as long as he could stand. Then, he pushed the door open, and entered the room. He felt something inside him twist as he looked at Bones, huddled on the floor by the toilet, her arms propped up on the seat, her body shaking from the heaves. In two strides, he was beside her. He knelt down, and gently stroked her hair back from her tearstained face. She glanced over at him, her eyes apologetic.

"Don't be sorry," He admonished, rubbing her back, "Everyone gets sick sometimes."

"I didn't mean to," She whispered.

"Shh… It's okay, it's okay," He murmured soothingly. He kept rubbing her back as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach.

When she was finished, she collapsed limply against him. Her eyelids drooped, and she shook visibly. Booth slid his arms around her, cradling her against him.

Tempe's eyes opened as he scooped her up off the floor and carried her back to the bed. A startled squeak came from her as she tried to keep the shirt from riding up any further.

"Easy Bones," He laid he gently on the bed, and then pulled the blankets up over her.

"No," She managed, making weak attempts to push back the blankets and get up. The pressure of Booth's hands on her shoulders stopped her.

"You need some sleep," He drew the covers over her, "It'll make you feel better."

She made some indistinguishable noise. On an impulse, he bent over her and brushed his lips softly across her forehead.

"Sleep well Temperance," He crossed the room quietly and flicked off the light. He left the door open a crack so he could hear her if she needed him.

After a final look in at her, curled up in the fetal position, Booth crept downstairs, in search of coffee and aspirin. He may not feel like he would be sick, but he had a nice headache that had situated itself right behind his eyes.

When Tempe awoke again, she was at first disoriented, her head ached, her limbs ached, and she had no idea where she was. As the fog that permeated her brain began to wear off, the situation became clearer. She remembered the scene in the bathroom, remembered Booth putting her to bed. Remembered waking up the first time with his arm around her, remembered finding a marriage certificate on the nightstand.

Sitting up and stretching in bed, she saw a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand_. How thoughtful_, she thought, reaching for the glass and taking a sip. She uncapped the aspirin bottle, and shook a few out onto her palm, swallowing them with another sip of the water.

From the hallway, she watched as Booth hummed to himself as he carefully lifted the poached egg from the pan. The toast popped, and he twisted at the waist, taking the bread from the toaster.

"Are you gonna watch me all day from the corner?" He asked, placing each piece of toast on a plate, the egg on a piece of toast, and setting the plate on the counter.

Embarrassed, Tempe entered the room, taking a seat on one of the stools that stood by the counter. He nudged the plate to her,

"Eat, it'll make you feel better."

Tempe waited for her stomach to turn over at the smell, but it didn't. Instead, it growled. Hungrily, she picked up a fork and dug in.

Picking up his own plate, Booth braced his behind against the counter behind him, and began to eat.

"Thank-you."

Booth looked up from his plate, "For what?"

"For this morning, for when I got sick," Tempe played with the remaining bits of egg on her plate, "It was very sweet of you."

"Your welcome," Booth smiled softly.

Neither could meet the others eyes.


	3. Katsufracus' House Of Bliss

**Title:** Katsufracus' House of Bliss

**Summery: **Booth and Bones visit the location of their impromptu weeding (You'll understand that after you read the rest), Booth risks his life, and a news story sparks interest in the squints.

**Disclaimer: **Insert incoherent babble about not owning anything here.

**Notes: **Keep all those awesome reviews coming people! This is the most I've ever received for one story, especially on the first _two _chapters! Please keep reading and keep reviewing. They make me continue on and give me an idea or two. Like I said, if you have anything you want to see happen, or have a suggestion that would improve the story, let me know. Thanks again!

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"What are we going to do about our situation?" Tempe made air quotes as she said 'situation'. Booth looked shocked so she asked quickly, "What? I saw Angela use them. Did I do it wrong?"

Booth didn't have an immediate answer. He had been so wrapped up in his own mind, which had been projecting a pseudo-happily married moment as they silently loaded the dishwasher. Combine that with the earnest look on her face, and he was uncharacteristically silent.

"Booth? Are you okay?" Bones gently squeezing his shoulder took Booth from his thoughts.

"I'm fine," He replied, shrugging away her hand, "Don't _you_ have a plan? _You're_ the smart one."

"Well," She snapped back, "I thought perhaps your _intestines_ might have some input."

"My _gut_ says that maybe we should check out the place where we got hitched, see if it's legit, and see what they can tell us about our wedding," Booth had to refrain from childishly sticking his tongue out at her.

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"This is the place," Booth double-checked the address scribbled on the scrap of paper he held.

"Katsu-. Katsufrac-" Tempe stumbled over the particular name that was spelled out on the blinking neon sign suspended overhead.

"Sound it out," Booth teased, then quickly sidestepped the halfhearted punch she sent his way.

The blinking neon sign hung haphazardly over a small building that's condition was bordering on rundown.The walls were a faded pink, and the concrete steps leading to the doorway had a chunk missing from the bottom step.

"Katsufracus' House of Bliss," Tempe managed to get her tongue around the peculiar name, "Is that what they think being linked to you is?"

"Being chained to you ain't exactly a bed of roses for me either sweet pea," Booth snapped.

As if on cue, both rolled their eyes exasperatedly.

"Let's get this over with," Tempe muttered, marching up the stairs. Booth followed, silently agreeing.

Once inside, Booth nudged Bones with his elbow, "Look." She looked. The doorway on their left opened into a small jewelry shop.

"It explains where the rings came from on such short notice," She inspected hers as she spoke.

"Yeah," Before Booth could say anything else, a booming voice announced, "Welcome to Katsufracus' House of Bliss. How may we be of service?" The booming voice belonged to a short, plump man; his bald head shining like a polished egg in the fluorescent lights.

"I'm Agent Booth, and this is Doctor Brennan," Baldy again interrupted Booth,

"And I'm the owner of this fine establishment, Liam Katsufracus," On closer inspection, he sputtered, "You two were here last night, I hope you're not looking for a refund. All fees are final."

"We wanted to know if you could tell us what happened last night," Tempe interjected.

"Tell ya what happened?" Liam asked curiously, "Don'tcha remember?"

Both Booth and Brennan shook their heads.

"Well, well," Liam stuck his thumbs under his elastic suspenders and pulled them approximately six inches away from himself, while rocking back and forth on his heels, " You two go some kinda memory troubles eh? What they call it? Amknees-something?"

"Amnesia," Tempe supplied.

"There's the one," Liam released his suspenders, and they snapped back against his chest. He winced on impact, and then rubbed his chest with the palm of his hands. Booth bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. Instead, he asked,

"Did you perform the ceremony yourself?"

"That I did sir," Liam proudly smiled, "Been ordained for twenty-five years. Been doing weedings since you was probably knee high on a grasshopper."

In her head, all Tempe could see was a Godzilla-sized grasshopper and a teeny-tiny sized Booth, and could help but snicker.

Booth pulled the marriage certificate from his breast pocket, "Do you recognize this signature?" He directed Liam's attention to the chicken scrawl on the witness' signature line.

Liam slipped on a pair coke-bottle glasses that took up most of his pudgy face. He blinked; the glasses making him look like a frog. Tempe and Booth exchanged glances. Booth chewed on his bottom lip.

"That be me wife's signature," Liam studied the paper carefully, "Helga Katsufracus."

Booth rubbed the back of his neck and sighed; _this could take a while_.

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"That was informative," Tempe observed as they exited Katsufracus' House of Bliss nearly an hour later. They hadn't been able to escape until they had met Helga. Helga; a woman looking much like a female version of her husband in a overly large flowered tunic and large glasses of her own, had instantly taken a liking to poor Booth. She'd offered to take him off Tempe's hands if she didn't want him. This made Liam squawk offended, and he had to be reassured of the joking nature of his wife's suggestion. Tempe made it worse for Booth, who had already turned crimson; by slipping an arm around him and saying she wasn't completely tired of him, though she may want to exchange him for an upgrade some day. Booth went redder than he possibly could have imagined.

"Yeah," Booth heaved a large sigh, squaring his shoulders and rotating his neck in an effort to eliminate the crick that had begun to bother him, "Where did you come up with the whole trading me in thing anyway? I thought you didn't get girly stuff?"

"I don't," She shrugged, "But Angela was saying that perhaps it was time for her to get rid of her current boy-friend, and find someone better. It seemed similar to when you upgrade a piece of technology."

Booth wasn't sure he liked being compared to a hard drive.

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Booth had offered to drive her home, saying that they couldn't do anything else until Monday. She had agreed. Now she sat in the passenger seat of his bureau issue SUV. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over them. One would begin to speak, and then their voices would trail off in mid-sentence.

As they approached her house, they could see the beginning of a crowd starting to gather on the sidewalk. Tempe edged forward in her seat, trying to get a better look. When they got closer, Tempe gasped. There were flames sprouting from the windows. They scrambled from the SUV, slamming the doors so hard the windows rattled.

"Birdie!" Tempe exclaimed. She pushed her way through the crowd. A strong grip clamped around her arm when she tried to run to her house.

"Who's Birdie?" Booth asked, holding her arm.

"My cat," She pulled to free her arm, but he held tightly and strangely wondered when in hell she got a cat, "He's in there!"

Booth exhaled hard. He could hear sirens, but they were off in the distance. How long would it take them to get there? How bad was the fire now? He glanced toward the house, then back to Tempe. Her stunning gray eyes pleaded with him. He wasn't about to let her go in there, whether it was pure practicality, or a feeling of protectiveness or maybe even possessiveness, he didn't have the time to figure it out. She wasn't going in there, no matter what.

"If I go get him, will you promise to stay here? You won't go inside?" He had decided from experience the best way was to bargain with her. If she wanted her cat bad enough, she'd agree to his terms.

She searched his face with her eyes, and then quickly nodded. Clearly she understood him, and/or cared for her cat.

"All right," Booth released her, and headed into the house. He heard Bones shout after him,

"Be careful Booth!"

Inside, the smoke clogged the air. Booth gagged, and then pulled the collar of his t-shirt over his mouth and nose. His eyes burned and he blinked wildly, searching for the damn cat.

He looked in the kitchen. The fire was climbing one of the walls; it was spreading to the ceiling and the other walls. Backing out quickly, he shut the door. He continued through the house, turning over chairs and other furniture, checking for Birdie.

Outside, Tempe was terrified, waiting on the yard. She searched the windows for a glimpse of Booth. She shouldn't have let him go in there. Panic gripped her, and she glanced at the ring on her fisted left hand. _Where was he?_ A sudden blast forced her backward. Her kitchen windows had blown out, the glass littering the yard. She felt sick to her stomach again, but this time it was from terror. A sick realization came to her; her _husband_ was in there, trying to rescue her _cat_. She shouldn't have let him go in there; she shouldn't have made him go in there.

Two firefighters were at her side, "Ma'am, you have to step back."

"This is my house," Tempe replied. She had barely heard him; her eyes were still searching for Booth.

"Ma'am, you need to step back," The firefighters said more firmly this time.

"My," The words stuck in her throat, "My husband is in there."

Another blast. Another window had blown out. Tempe was frantic now. She felt on the verge of tears. _Where was he? _

"Booth," She murmured, tears pricking the back of her eyes, the lump in her throat growing to grapefruit sized proportions.

"You don't look so good Bones," She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice. He was caked in soot; his shirt was torn across his left shoulder. But he was out and in one piece. A plaintive meow emanated from the bundle he held in his arms. He handed her the cat wrapped in his jacket, but when he went to release the cat into her arms; he found she had held onto him. A small smile slipped over his features. She looked like she had been terrified, and not just about the cat. She hadn't had time to put her heart back into that box it lived in, and he saw. Pulling her into his arms, cat and all, he saw. Tempe buried her face against him, not caring that he was coated in dirt and reeked of smoke. The lump in her throat had begun to recede. He was back, he was out, he was safe. And so was Birdie.

"Booth," She murmured again, this time out of joy.

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Angela Montenegro was spending a quiet Saturday evening at home for once. Curled up into a somewhat self-pitying ball on her couch, the usual party girl flipped through the TV channels until a particular news story caught her eye. The title bar across the bottom of her screen read **Feline Friend**.

A blonde reporter clutched a microphone and gestured at the charred remains of a house behind her. There was nothing recognizable left to the structure. Angela shook her head dismally, hopefully there hadn't been anyone inside, she thought.

"_While firefighters rushed to the scene_," The reporter was saying, "_The owner of the home arrived to find her house in flames_."

"_The owner of the home you used to be able to see behind me is Doctor Temperance Brennan, renowned forensic anthropologist and author_."

"Oh my god," Angela gasped, "That was Brennan's house?"

Beside her, the phone began to ring. She snatched it up, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"It's me," Zack said into the phone, "Have you seen the news?"

"I'm watching it right now," Angela replied, her eyes glued to the set, "Can you believe it? Brennan's house? I hope she's okay. Have you heard from her?"

"I've tried calling her cell," Zack's voice was shaky, "I keep getting her voice mail. Where is she? Do you know?"

Angela was about to answer but the news reporter, was speaking again,

"_Trapped inside was Doctor Brennan's cat. A Good Samaritan rushed inside, risking his own life in the blaze to rescue the feline. Special Agent Seeley Booth was treated on scene with minor burns and abrasions. The cat he saved, a little worse for the wear, but safe and unharmed."_

The shot changed to one of Booth and Brennan, she was pulled up close against an extremely dirty Booth, his head was bent down over hers.

_Perhaps he's more than just a friend to the felines. I'm Rebecca Hardgraves for Channel Five News."_

"Are you hearing this!" Angela screeched into the receiver. On his end Zack held the phone away from his ear.

"I heard. What was Booth doing there?" He asked, ready to drag the phone from his ear at a second's notice.

"I'm going to try to call her," Angela said firmly, "I'll call you back as soon as I know anything."

"Okay," Both disconnected the call, Zack exhaled hard and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him. Angela began punching in numbers, desperate and determined to find out what happened.

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Tempe had just remembered to turn on her cell phone. She had about three messages from Zack in the last hour. There was a couple from Angela too, but she didn't have the energy to return them. She knew she should, that they would be worried about her. They had probably seen a piece on the fire on the news.

She was curled into the corner of the sofa, her legs tucked up underneath her. She wore his clothes again, a pair of gray sweatpants with the drawstrings tightened as far as they would go, and that same oversized dark blue FBI t-shirt. She felt swallowed in his clothes, but all of hers needed either washed, dry cleaned, or thrown away. And for some reason, being wrapped up in his clothes offered almost the same comfort his arms had not long ago, as they stood and watched her house burn, watched as the firefighters quenched the flames.

Zzzzzznt. Zzzzzznt. She watched as her phone vibrated across the coffee table. She wasn't sure she wanted to answer it. She knew she didn't want to move.

"Are you going to answer it?" He had been silent for so long his voice startled her. He sat in the chair beside the sofa, his legs flung out in front of him. He had showered, so his hair was wet and he was no longer covered in a film of sweat and soot. He wore a tight, white wife beater, and a clean pair of jeans.

"Yeah," She reached forward, careful not to displace the cat from her lap, and grabbed the phone, "Hello?"

"Tempe!" She held the phone away from her ear. _Angela _she mouthed to Booth. He winced sympathetically.

"Angela? Angela!" Tempe tried to catch her friend's attention, but all she got was,

"And why was Booth there? He is okay, right? The last time I saw the two of you, you were leaving together last night! What happened!"

"Angela!" Tempe shouted into the phone. Angela finally fell silent, her tirade temporarily exhausted.

Booth listened to snatches of Tempe's side of the conversation. "There was faulty wiring in one of the kitchen outlets." "Smoke and water damage." "They said the door to the kitchen had been closed, so the fire was contained." "The kitchen windows blew out." "He's fine, just a couple of scratches." "Birdie's fine."

Then they got down to the real crux of the matter.

"I'm staying with Booth for now." "He was driving me home Ange." "We met up for a while, that's all." "Nothing happened."

Booth glanced from his ringed finger to hers and started to laugh. She threw a pillow at him.

"You're not going to tell her?" He asked when she had managed to placate Angela who had promised to call and reassure Hodgins and Zack.

"What's to tell her?" Tempe countered, replacing her phone on the coffee table, "Do you want us to stay like this?"

He shrugged, "Do you?"

For once she didn't have an answer. She was exhausted and drained. Tempe didn't want to think about anything. Booth could see that, "C'mere Bones."

"What?" Confused, she watched him outstretch his arms, "What are you doing?"

"Come here," He beckoned her closer with a few rapid curls of his fingers. Tempe gently placed the sleeping cat on the couch cushion, and crawled into the chair with Booth. His arms curled around her, and her head fitted comfortably under his chin. Tempe closed her eyes and listened to the steady sounds of his heartbeat, letting it lull and soothe her frazzled sensibilities.


	4. In The Dark

**Title: **In The Dark

**Summery: **Tempe has trouble sleeping through the night.

**Disclaimer: **No _Bones_, no money.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reviews; keep it up! You guys are awesome!

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Tempe had a hard time falling asleep that night. Booth had set her up in a small room off the end of the hall that was normally reserved for Parker. Strange places had never bothered her before; she had been in plenty of them to know. She couldn't understand it. But every time she closed her eyes she saw her house engulfed in flames, felt the tremor as the windows exploded from the inside out. She could feel the panic bubbling up inside her. This was irrational, she scolded herself, no one was in danger, Booth was safe, Birdie was safe, no one had gotten hurt, and everything was all over. But still, she lay in bed, trying to find a comfortable position and finding none.

She tried turning the light off, tried leaving it on. She tossed and turned, fluffed up her pillow, then punched it down. She tried sleeping on her side, on her stomach, on her back. Eventually she ended up displacing the oversized feline at the end of the bed. She couldn't get her mind around what had transpired in the last day. She had gotten married, she had been extremely hung-over, and Booth had taken care of her. Her house had burned down, Booth (Her _husband_, she kept recalling) had rescued her cat, and she had nearly passed out from terror right on her front lawn. Right now, every little noise and rattle made her tense up.

An aluminum garbage can toppled over on the street, creating a hollow crashing sound. Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of bed and down the hall to Booth's room.

She crouched by the edge of his bed, squinting to make out his silhouette in the darkness. When her eyes had adjusted, she whispered, "Booth. Booth!"

When he didn't respond, she jabbed him in the shoulder. He still didn't move. The room so quiet she could hear herself breathing. Deciding that he was a heavy sleeper, Tempe sighed, sat back on her heels and watched his chest rise and fall. She was about to go back to her own room and wait for the morning to come when he stirred.

"Would you quit staring at me?" His voice broke the silence. He scrubbed a hand over his face, "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, "No."

"How come?" She shrugged. Booth closed his eyes, then opened them again, "Scared?"

"No," She answered immediately, indignant that he would think that. But as she spoke, even she didn't believe herself.

He apparently didn't either, "Yes you are. It's okay, especially after what's happened."

"I don't get scared," She insisted.

"Everybody gets scared now and then," He reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Not me," She watched as he moved over, "What are you doing?"

"Come here," He tugged on her hand.

Tempe's eyes widened, "What!"

"You can't sleep, and you're going to keep me up either by talking to me, or by staring at me," She was going to protest, he could tell, but he cut her off, "Or you'll go back to the other room and I'll be stuck awake worrying about you."

"You will not," She protested.

_It's happened before_, he thought. But he said, "Will too. So, you can stay here. I won't have to worry about you, and you won't have to be scared. I'll protect you."

Normally, anything about him protecting her set her on edge, but Tempe was still caught up on the _stay here_ part, "Stay here? With you?"

"If I leave, it would defeat the purpose," He teased.

She gave him a look, one he had dubbed as the eyebrow of death. He had seen it on _Star Trek_. The Vulcans would do it when they were getting cranky. Not that they'd ever admit to it.

"Come on," He yawned, "While its still night."

Reluctantly, she crawled in beside him. They both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Booth stuffed his arms up under his pillow, while Tempe folded hers across her front.

"Comfortable?" Booth asked after a few minutes.

"Uh-huh," She murmured. They lay in silence for a long moment, then, "Booth?"

"Hmmm?"

" I never really got to say… So, umm, thank-you, for what you did today."

"Your welcome Bones," As he spoke, a low meow came from beside him, and a furry head brushed against his arm, "You too cat."

She was already beginning to feel drowsy. Her eyelids drooped. Booth yawned again, then he too fell back to sleep.

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Booth awoke early, even without his usual alarm. Before he opened his eyes, he could feel a weight lying across him. In her sleep, Tempe had curled up against him. He tucked his chin and looked down at her. One of her legs was pulled up over his, her arm lay across his stomach, a palm pressed against his chest. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder; her hair tumbled over her face in a riot of curls and tangles. He stroked her hair back, not because he didn't like the effect, but because he wanted to see her face. Her eyes were still buttoned closed, pale lashes were fanned out over porcelain skin.

He kept stroking her hair back. She sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer. Booth smiled softly, he hadn't expected Bones to be a cuddler. In fact, he had half expected her to push him off the bed in her sleep, not nestle against him like a warm puppy. A warm, comfortable feeling washed over him, like he could comfortably stay in the same position for hours, as long as it was Bones beside him. He wasn't sure he wanted that particular feeling, like he wanted their 'situation' to become permanent. She had been in his house for almost two days, and he felt like she had been there forever. She had settled right in, cat and all.

Hand still wound up in her hair, Booth let his head fall back on his pillow, listening to the birds outside the windows sing.

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Tempe awoke slowly, to the sounds of birdsong and breathing. Her eyes still closed, she realized that her head was moving up and down slowly in a continuous rhythm. She moved her hand, brushing against thin fabric, then taut flesh.

Booth saw her eyes begin to dart around behind her lids. He remained silent until she began to move.

"Sleep well?" He asked softly, brushing her hair off her face.

Blinking rapidly, she lifted her head, "Yes," Her voice was a little scratchy, "You?"

"Great," He gave her a grin that always succeeded in making her heart palpitate. It was now that she realized she was no longer lying beside him; she was nearly lying on _top_ of him. She quickly pulled away, then asked critically, "Wasn't I over _there_ when I fell asleep?"

"Hey, I didn't do anything," Booth chuckled, sensing her awkwardness, "This was all you Bones."

She sat up, raking her hands through her hair. He flickered his gaze over her; he still thought she looked better in that shirt than he did. Only this time he didn't say so. He didn't want to scare her.

Tempe felt his eyes on her. She wasn't sure what to think. Should she be pleased that he was looking her over? Or should she be upset that he was looking her over? She could detect appreciation in his eyes. _What would Angela advise her? _she wondered. Angela would probably tell her to take advantage of the situation. Here she was; in bed, with Booth. Ange would have a heart attack if she found out.

She ended up being self-conscious that he was 'checking her out'. She was sure that is what Angela called it when a guy looked one of them over. What was she supposed to do? Unsure, she ended up engaging him in one of their frequent staring contests. Raking her gaze over him, she liked what she saw. Of course, it hadn't been the first time she'd seen him in a tight undershirt. She especially remembered him doing chin-ups off the railing at the museum when they had all been stuck in decon over last Christmas. She remembered admiring those arms lift and pull from afar. Now, she wasn't doing her admiring from afar.

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Tempe had insisted on accompanying Booth on his usual run around the block. As they rounded one of the corners, she found something else to feel embarrassed about. Not only could she not handle a hangover, she couldn't sleep by herself, nor watch where her feet were going.

"Be careful," Booth said, as he stepped over a root that poked out of the dirt. Tempe though, didn't see it.

"Aghh!" She caught her foot on the root, and toppled forward. She fell onto the gravel, landing on her hands and knees.

"Are you alright?" Booth asked as he bent down beside her. She nodded,

"Yeah, I'm fine," She went to push herself up, but then cringed when she pressed her hands to the ground.

"Here," Booth helped her to her feet, "What did you hurt?"

"I'm fine," She repeated, trying to brush off her pants. The friction of her hands across the fabric made her hands hurt, and she winced.

Booth noticed the wince, and closed his hands over her wrists, "Let me see."

Tempe protested again that she was fine, but Booth ignored her. He uncurled her fingers and took a close look at the scrapes on her palms.

"You've got some gravel in there," He ran a gentle fingertip over one of the worst scratches, "And you're bleeding."

He studied her palms for so long, with such a concerned look in his eyes that she couldn't help herself when she asked, "Are you going to kiss them better?"

A roguish look transformed his features as he lifted her scratched and bruised palms to his mouth. Gently, he pressed his lips to one, then the other.

"Feel better?" He asked. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes. Something she wanted to investigate, and nearly commented on, until she realized where they were. Standing on the sidewalk, mid-morning on a Sunday, when everybody else was beginning to awaken. She saw a little child, standing in a large picture window in one of the closest houses, peeking around the curtain at them.

"I'm fine," She said once again, and pulled her hands from him. This time, he released her.

The concerned look back in place, he asked, "You're knees okay?"

God help her, she couldn't stop herself, "Are you going to kiss them too?"

The roguish look returned, as he replied, "If you want me to."

Tempe looked startled; she hadn't expected the response from him. She didn't reply, because she knew her voice would betray the fact she actually did want him to.

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Back home, Booth had insisted on bandaging her scraped knees and palms. She had rebelled, but it hadn't gotten her anywhere. He made her sit on one of the stools in the kitchen while he washed out and applied salve to her wounds.

"Now," He held up two boxes for her inspection, "Do you want Buzz or Big Bird?"

"I don't know what that means."

"I've got band-aids here with Buzz Lightyear on them, and band-aids with Big Bird on them," His eyes became a little softer, the look in them filled with paternal love, "I've got them for when Parker visits," He grumbled the next part, "When Rebecca lets me see him," By the time he spoke again, his voice had returned to normal, "He likes Buzz the best. But I thought I'd give you the choice. What'll it be?"

She studied the two boxes; each depicting a character she presumed where cartoons. One looked something like an astronaut, the other like a giant ostrich. She liked the ostrich, "Big Bird please," She smiled as he carefully smoothed the band-aids onto her hands and knees.

"There," He gave a final gentle pat to one of the injured knees, "Next time, we'll go slower so you can see where you're going."

"Maybe you shouldn't of worn white."

She loved his confused look, "Don't tell me its bad to wear white after Labor Day."

"I don't know what that means," She quipped, "But the sun reflecting off your shirt made me see spots."

"So its my fault?"

"Yes."

He laughed, deep laughter that bubbled up from his belly. After watching him for a moment, Tempe couldn't help but join in.

"So," She asked after they had calmed, "Does Parker visit you often?"

He shook his head, tucking the boxes away in the cupboard, "Not as often as I'd like. I'm not sure whether Rebecca thinks that I'm not a good dad or that since she doesn't like me, she won't let me see him."

"That's cruel!" Tempe exclaimed venomously, "To deprive the child of their father, just because she doesn't hold a certain fondness for you is just cruel! And to prevent you from seeing him, Booth, that's horrible."

Booth nodded, "Thanks Bones." He braced his hands on the counter, and hung his head.

"I mean it Booth. I've seen you with him; you're a great father. And he loves you, I could tell," Before she knew it, she had slipped off the stool and began rubbing her hand across his broad shoulders.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, then turned and took her hand in his. Gently holding it, he turned it over in his, examining the blue and yellow Big Bird band-aid. He swallowed hard; Parker would like her. He knew his father all ready did. Definitely more than liked her. And from what he could discern from the look in her eyes, she more than liked him too.

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That afternoon, Booth was puttering around in the kitchen, putting away the remains from lunch. He had banished Tempe from the kitchen. In trying to help him make grilled cheese sandwiches, she had flambéed a potholder. Teasingly, he had escorted her to the door, saying that maybe it was best if he cleaned up, while she sat elsewhere. Feeling uncharacteristically good-natured, she had complied, saying she was above such menial tasks anyway. He had chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

Birdie had curled up into a large white ball beside her, while Tempe was flipping through channels on the TV. She didn't watch much television, usually didn't have the time, but at the moment she was sedentary. She had heard Booth boast to Zack and Hodgins that he had recently installed digital cable. While Hodgins wanted to know about something called the _Playboy _Channel, Zack had excitedly asked if he got the _Discovery Channel_. Tempe wanted to see what Zack was so excited about.

The doorbell rang. Birdie barely lifted his head, then instantly fell back to sleep. Hopping off the couch, Tempe called out, "I'll get it!"

On the doorstep, stood Angela, her arms widespread.

"Hey sweetie!" She pulled Tempe into a bear hug, "I wanted to come make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine," Tempe awkwardly returned the hug, "Really."

Angela eyed her critically, "What are you wearing?"

Tempe looked down at herself, confused, "Clothes?"

Angela raised an eyebrow, "Booth's clothes?"

"He lent me some things," Tempe shrugged, and then had to pull the shoulder of the shirt back into place, "Mine all need cleaned. Or thrown out."

"Well, I've got something to help you out with that," Angela waved her to follow as she trotted back to her car, "Voila!" She popped the trunk, inside holding a horde of garbage bags.

"Garbage bags?" Tempe asked with a twist in her voice.

"Its clothes," Angela announced, "I had some stuff I was going to get rid of anyway, and I thought that you could use them."

"Wow, umm, thanks Ange," Tempe swallowed hard, trying hard to think of anything else but garbage bags full of clothes.

"Why don't I take them upstairs, and you can look through them later?" Though she had been startled her slightly with his sudden and silent approach, Tempe was thankful for his interruption. She nodded slightly, while Angela beamed at him.

"How's it feel to be a hero Booth?" She asked, her hundred-watt smile in place.

He shrugged, "Not much different than normal." Hefting a bag over each shoulder, he carried them inside. Tempe led Angela inside.

"So," Angela drawled, plopping down on the couch, " What's going on with you two? Are you, like, together? Or is it just a one-time thing? Come one girl, spill!"

"It's nothing," Tempe insisted, "He's just letting me stay here."

None of what Tempe said had registered with Angela because she was zooming in on the ring on Brennan's left hand.

"What is this?" She shrieked.

Tempe sighed deeply, there was no way around it now. Besides, it would feel good to unload on her best friend, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Oh, sweetie," Angela said eagerly, "_What did you do_?"

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It took Booth about three trips in and out to carry all Angela had brought. The girl must have a _lot_ of clothes he thought. On his way through, he had caught bits and snatches of Bones and Angela's conversation. Seems like Bones had decided to tell Angela after all.

He depositing the last bag in the spare room, the one Tempe had attempted to sleep in the night before, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Thanks."

He straightened, "No problem Bones. It'll be good for you to wear something that fits."

She nodded, then, rubbing her arm, she stepped further into the room, and sat on the bed. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," He replied, flopping beside her.

"I thought I was past all this, but when Ange opened her trunk, and I saw all the garbage bags, all these memories came rushing back to me," She sounded choked up, her eyes plastered to one of the bags.

Booth slipped an arm around her, pulling her against him. Surprisingly, she went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You know Angela didn't do it on purpose," He said soothingly, "She just wanted to help."

"I know," He could feel her nod against him, "I always have a strange reaction to garbage bags."

"You're allowed babe," The endearment slipped, but she didn't latch onto it. Instead she brushed her hands over her cheeks,

"I have been unloading so much on you."

"S'okay Bones," He smiled, "That's what husbands are for right?"

"I don't know," She said seriously, "I've never had one before."

Chuckling, he began to tickle her sides. For the life of him, he wasn't sure why. He didn't even know how he knew Bones was ticklish. It seemed like a good idea. Instead of punching him, or poking him in the eye like he expected, she fell back giggling, trying desperately, but feebly to push his hands away.

"Stop it Booth, stop," She kept laughing, kept trying to squirm out of his grasp. But she couldn't. Or didn't, she wasn't sure which it was.

When he stopped, he was leaning over her, their faces inches apart. It seemed like some kind of magnetic force was pulling them together, because at the same instant, their mouths met, as if one could sense intent from the other. The contact felt electric, and it sent a thrill coursing through them. She clung, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. He nearly lost his balance, not wanting to fall and crush her. Bracing one elbow above her head, he used his free hand to adjust her head to his preference. Something in him released, and he deepened the kiss. She moaned in the back of her throat, and held tighter. His hand had begun to explore.

Suddenly, a flash of memory sparked behind her closed eyelids. It was dark, Booth was leaning over her, just as he was now, except that his mouth had made its way to her neck, and was slowly trailing kisses down it. She could hear herself whimper, could feel his hands leisurely working their way over her, could feel her hands doing the same to him.

"Bones? Are you okay?"

She opened her eyes to see him still leaning over her, but now his expression was of concern. She blinked furiously, trying to will the image back, trying to glean from it anything she could.

"I was remembering something," She whispered, "It was us, we were, were," She couldn't quite make herself say it.

"Fooling around?" He suggested curiously.

"No," She shook her head, "It was more than that." She traced a fingertip along the waistband of his jeans, "You have a scar here. Why would I know that?"

Confused, Booth peered down at her. He did have a scar there and it wasn't the same scar he had shown Sean in the interrogation room. He had never shown it to her, at least he didn't remember showing it to her.

"It's just like how I knew that you were ticklish," He muttered.

"This is weird," Tempe announced.

Booth chuckled, "Really weird," He agreed. They locked eyes for a moment, and then both became uncomfortable. Booth pushed himself backward, so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Tempe sat up beside him and adjusted her shirt.

"We should go back downstairs," She sounded regretful as she spoke, "Before Angela comes looking for us."

"Agreed," Booth nodded. Standing, he offered her his hand to help her to her feet. She refused, and stood on her own. He was mildly amused by her minor act of independence, but even more puzzled by the peculiar happenings in the past two days.


	5. Give Me My Space

**Title: **Give Me My Space

**Summery: **The squints invade Booth's space.

**Disclaimer: **You want money; look elsewhere. Sorry.

**Author's Note: **You guys rock! Thanks for all your support on this! Just incase you've forgotten, Angela calls Tempe Bren; I guess she likes it better than Tempe. Just thought I'd have a reminder before anybody got confused. Just to clear a few things up. Booth does have a son named Parker. I didn't make him up. In the memory spark Bones had last chapter she was remembering what had happened on her and Booth's 'wedding night'. A few other questions cannot be answered, because they might give too much away. **;p**

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It turned out Angela wasn't missing them at all. She was casually scanning the pictures that hung on the living room walls and decorated the bookshelf. There was many of Parker, some with Booth, some without. He was such a cutie, Angela thought. She snorted moments later when she found one of the 'squints'. It had been taken when they all were at Sid's. They were all crowded into the booth in the back. Someone had taken the picture and given it to Booth later. That was obvious because no one in the picture knew that his or her photograph had been taken. Zack and Jack were in the middle of a vehement argument, probably about women. What else did the two of them fight like that about? She saw herself in the picture, stirring her drink with a straw, a dreamy look on her face. Booth and Brennan were sitting close, like always, Angela thought. Booth's arm lay across the back of the seat, something Brennan would never allow with anyone else. Their heads were bent together; they were arguing too, but with them, it was impossible for Angela to guess what about. They argued about so much that it was never the same thing twice.

There was something in that, Angela had always guessed. They had such an obvious _chemistry_. They were polar opposites, and yet they were so alike. It sometimes gave Angela chills when one would finish the other's thought, or knew what the other was going to say before they said it. They spoke volumes with their eyes, sometimes having entire conversations it seemed, that no one else could understand, even if they wanted to. And now they had gotten _married_?! She had nearly fainted when Bren had finally told her the truth. Ange had a feeling that Bren was holding something back, but she knew not to push, or she wouldn't find out anything, and Bren would draw into herself.

It was _such_ a good match though. Angela sighed dreamily, feeling that her matchmaking skills had been put to good use, even if it hadn't exactly happened the way she'd planned.

"Whatcha looking at?" Booth's voice scared the wits out of her. She spun around and saw him standing there, watching her, his hands deep in his hip pockets.

"Where's Bren?" Angela asked, her hand pressed over her thudding chest.

"In the bathroom," Something flickered in his face at his wife's name, but it was gone before Angela could comment on it. He repeated swiftly, "Whatcha you looking at?"

"You keep a picture of us," She said.

He nodded, "Sid gave it to me. I like it."

"Parker's a really cute kid," She changed the subject, feeling like she had caught trespassing on emotional territory, staring at the group picture for too long. Even if she had been part of it.

"Thanks."

Angela motioned to a picture were Parker was with someone she couldn't place. The woman had brown hair and brown eyes, both wore a large smile that made Angela smile along with them. The woman looked familiar, but different, "Who's this?" Her eyes got that fascinated glint in them as she asked, "Is it the mom?"

He shook his head, "That's my baby sister, Vivian."

"You have a little sister?" Angela asked, now understanding why the woman looked so familiar, she looked so much like Booth himself, "How old is she?"

"Twenty-three. Zack's age."

Angela nodded, "So she's the aunt then." She traced a fingertip over the edge of the frame that housed the picture, "She's beautiful."

"Yeah," Booth grinned, obviously bursting with brotherly pride, "She's a social worker."

"Cool," Angela replaced the picture on the bookshelf, carefully setting it back into place. Booth exhaled hard,

"So, she told you huh?"

Ange nodded, "She did." She spoke as solemnly as he did.

"What do you think?" He asked seriously, not particularly sure why he was asking her.

"I think it's awesome!" She exclaimed exuberantly, "I've always said you two should get together. You and Bren, you just _fit_, you know? Like long lost puzzle pieces. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I get it," Booth sighed, mulling over her words.

"Of course, you're going a little faster than I would have thought, but hey, who am I to judge?" She teased, "Couldn't wait to get that ring on her finger, could ya?"

That made him laugh.

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The doorbell rang again. Booth had retreated to some other room in the house, pleading that he didn't want to be _exposed_ to their 'girl talk'. But now he trotted into the room, waving at Tempe to sit back down when she made a move to answer the door herself, "I got it."

"What did you do?" Tempe hissed, knowing her friend all to well.

"I thought that maybe you could use some cheering up," Angela feigned innocence, "How was I supposed to know that Booth had all ready done it?"

Tempe didn't get to reply because Booth turned around and asked, "Who ordered the pizza with a side of squints?"

Angela let out a high pitched giggle, while Tempe craned her neck to see Zack and Hodgins standing together on the doorstep, two pizza boxes clutched in one's hand, video cassette tapes in the other's.

Hodgins stepped into the room while Zack hung back, eyeing Booth to see if he would throw them out. After watching Hodgins with a confused look on his face, he turned back to Zack, "Are you just gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna come in?"

Zack scurried past him and took refuge beside Angela. Hodgins plopped down in an empty chair, Booth cringing at the maltreatment of his furniture.

"Whatcha watching?" Jack asked, flipping open a pizza box and pulling out a slice. He seemed to have settled right in, and that irked Booth in a way. "So, do you get the _Playboy_ channel?" He asked like owned the place. Zack though, seemed to have been taught how to behave at someone else's home. He sat carefully on the sofa.

"Oh yeah, that's something we want to see," Angela snapped, indicating Tempe and herself, "Naked women." She then said to Tempe in a whisper that really wasn't, "Do you really want your man watching that crap?"

"Relax Ange," Booth reached around Tempe who sat between them to pat Angela's shoulder, "I don't have that channel. Can you imagine what would happen if Parker accidentally turned it on?"

While Angela laughed and Tempe imagined the poor child shell-shocked at what he was seeing, Zack and Hodgins were still reeling from the _your man_.

"Your man?" Hodgins sputtered baffled, "Who are you talking about?"

Zack carefully studied Booth and Tempe's flushed faces, and asked, mystified, "Did you two do something we should know about?"

Angela snorted, "Does getting married count?"

Hodgins nearly dropped his slice of pizza, but rescued it just in time. Poor Zack wasn't so lucky. He tumbled from his perch on the edge of the sofa cushion, and had to be rescued himself.

"You _what_?" Jack exclaimed, chucking his slice back into the box to avoid further danger.

"You wanna be more careful?" Booth retorted, "This isn't your house, and I sure as hell ain't your maid."

Hodgins made his hoity-toity face while Tempe tried to calm her _man_. Covertly she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Booth winked at her.

Finally recovering his voice, Zack held out the videotapes to Booth,

"I thought that maybe we could watch these. You said before you liked them."

Booth had to laugh as he checked out the covers. Zack had handed him Three Stooges tapes. "Sure kid."

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The next few hours were spent with the entire squint squad crowded into Booth's living room. Zack was sprawled on the floor; Jack had taken the chair. Angela, Tempe and Booth sat on the couch in that order. During the course of the evening Tempe found herself unconsciously leaning toward Booth, as if using him as a rather large cushion.

Angela glanced over at them and sighed happily. She took pride in her matchmaking skills. If Booth and Bren stayed married, all would probably be well in her world.

Zack would crane his neck around every so often and look up at the crowd on the sofa or at Jack. He liked Booth, even though the tougher guy seemed pretty closed off to any overture of friendship he had made. Perhaps though, he could get Doctor Brennan to lighten up a little.

Jack tried to appear absorbed in the movie, but even his gaze kept slipping to Booth and Brennan. Once upon a time; there had been a moment or two when he considered his having something of a crush on Doctor Brennan. Seeing her with Booth now, though not totally unexpected, was a bit unnerving, as the two flirted with reckless abandon. It was out of character for his friend, though she'd loosened up in the past years, this was Brennan at the most comfortable, most carefree he'd ever seen.

Booth didn't mind that he was being used as a giant pillow. He didn't even mind that the squints were at his house, watching his television. Inspite of himself, he was having a good time. At one point in the movie, Booth caught Angela's eyes, then nodded towards Zack and Hodgins and made a knocking their heads together motion. Both burst out laughing and the three that hadn't been in on the joke clamored to be included.

Before the evening was over Booth said something to Tempe that no one else heard, but made her flush nonetheless. She gasped and punched his arm. He hit back. Not hard, more playful. She returned, and so did he. This went on until Angela finally decided to separate them. She switched seats with Tempe so Booth was at one end and Tempe was at the other. This did little to deter them because not a minute had passed after the seat exchange when Tempe reached around Angela and gently cuffed Booth in the back of the head. Wide eyed, Booth looked over at her. She made an innocent face and pointed at Ange. Rolling his eyes, Booth settled back, and soon after Tempe did too, thinking she had won this round. She was wrong. When she least expected it, about five minutes later, Booth reached around Ange and flicked her with his forefinger and thumb. It was his turn to feign innocence and accuse Angela.

Zack and Hodgins exchanged oblivious glances, what had happened to the cool, aloof Doctor Brennan?

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When all the squints had cleared out, after some parting posturing between Booth and Hodgins, he and Tempe began sorting through the many bags Angela had deposited. Most of the things were mundane, until they reached the bottom of the third bag.

"What is _this_?" Tempe held up a skimpy, plum colored negligee by the miniscule shoulder straps.

Booth's eyes grew wide, "Pajamas?" He suggested.

Tempe raised an eyebrow, "Where's the rest of it?"

"I don't know," He shrugged, fingering the flimsy silk material, "I kinda like it."

She rolled her eyes, "I thought it might be more your style than mine."

"You think?" Taking the nightie from her, he held it up against himself, smoothing down the fabric, "How do I look?"

Tempe's mouth dropped open. He looked so _serious_.

"Oh. My. God," Uncontrollable laughter alerted them that they were not alone. Flinging the 'pajamas' on the bed, Booth spun around. In the doorway stood a petite young girl, Tempe thought she couldn't be older than Zack. Her hazelnut brown hair was drawn away from her face by two small clips that sparkled. Her brown eyes sparkled also, but with mirth. "Nice nightie bro," She managed to gasp out.

Red faced, Booth muttered, "Thanks," And pulled her into a hug. Tempe glanced from one to the other; unsure of what had just happened.

"Look at you," Booth held the girl, more woman really, back at arm's length, "You're all grown up."

"I used my key to get in, I hope that's okay," Still grinning, she asked, "Why were you modeling women's nightware?"

"L-o-o-o-o-ng story," He drew out the words as far as he could, "And some of it may not be suited for your inexperienced ears."

Tempe felt like shouting and waving her arms. They had forgotten she was even there. She wasn't used to that happening.

"Bones," _Finally_ Tempe thought, "I want you to meet someone."

"Hi," The woman waggled her fingers in an imitation of a wave.

"This is my baby sister, Vivian," Booth squeezed the woman's small shoulders, "Viv, this is my, ahem," He cleared his throat, "My wife."

"Wife!" Vivian squealed, "What the hell Seeley?"

It took a few minutes to explain the last few days, and it ended with Vivian again shaking with laughter.

"You always were pretty smooth Seel, but never like this," She then extended a hand to Tempe, feeling the older woman would rebuff any offer of prolonged physical contact, "Welcome to the family?"

Tempe could see Booth hitch his head, indicating he wanted her to accept his apparently beloved sister. She could practically _feel_ it.

"Thanks," She shook Vivian's offered hand, and was rewarded by on of Booth's heart pounding smiles.

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An hour later, the house was nearly empty again. Vivian had left with strict orders to report to Sid's the next evening. Booth said he wanted Angela to meet her. Maybe Zack too. He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted his baby sister introduced to Hodgins though. Zack was okay; Zack was safe. Something told Booth that Hodgins might see Viv as a new target.

Now the newlyweds were lying side by side in bed. Angela's deposits occupied the empty room, Parker's room. Booth's arms were lying by his side; Bones lay on her side, her back facing Booth. Booth could tell she wanted to ask him something, but so far she hadn't said a peep. He wasn't sure if he should bring it up, or just let her stew until she decided she was ready to talk. But waiting made him tense.

Bones was lost in her own thoughts, unaware of his. Vivian's appearance had been quite the surprise. Of course she knew he had a sister, but he had never mentioned that she would be visiting. In the ten months that they had been partners, they had become dependant on each other, sharing most everything. It seemed as if they could tell each other anything. Or at least she thought they could, having spilled many an emotional bean. For a while now, Booth had been her confidant. The one subject they shied away from was family. Talking about hers was dicey, and his just seemed like territory he hadn't wanted to enter. She knew the basics; Booth had two siblings, a brother and a sister. His parents were stodgy and very conservative. His father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather before him had been military men.

Something nettled her. She wanted to know why talking about his family was so taboo. Rolling over to face him she asked, "Seeley, how come you don't talk about your family?"

"I don't know, it never really comes up," He propped himself up on his elbow to look at her, "You never talk about your family either."

"That's because it," She stopped, not wanting to go there.

"Hurts," Booth supplied, brushing a shock of hair that had fallen over her face back, then let his hand cup her cheek, "I guess it would. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," She leaned into his touch, "I just wondered what stopped you."

"I didn't want to bring it up and flaunt the fact that I have relatives," _And you don't. _Booth let her fill in the rest of the sentence in her head, not wanting to say it out loud, "I didn't want to see you hurt. Like on your birthday."

She remembered that day in vivid detail. He had stopped by to pick her and found her staring blankly at the last birthday card she had ever received from her parents. Later in the week, she had found a card on her desk at the Jeffersonian, depicting a woman squinting at herself in a mirror. The inside had read, 'Don't think too much. Happy Birthday!' The signature had read, Love Booth. She had spent the rest of the day carrying that card in her pocket. He had never brought it up again, but he could tell by the glow in her eyes she was grateful. From then on, he was especially careful when the conversation steered precariously to family, trying to head it off at the pass. He didn't want to see that kind of pain on her face again.

"Sometimes, it feels good to talk about it," She propped herself up on an elbow and smiled softly, "Tell me about your sister."

"She's kinda like Angela, always moving, always talking. A little ball of energy. She graduated from high school early and got a scholarship to college. She's a social worker," He sighed, "She's pretty tough. It's hard to break through the wall she's got going on."

"She seemed perfectly open," Tempe observed.

"Yeah," Booth let his fingers slowly stroke over her face, " I'm not sure how long it'll last. Whenever someone starts to get close, she runs."

"Why?"

"She is the youngest in the family. She isn't just the baby; she's twelve years younger than me. And seventeen years younger than Jared."

"Your brother?" Tempe could sense a bit of a family revelation was about to unfold. She did something she didn't think she would ever do. Sensing his need for comfort, she shifted over, and laid her head on his shoulder, resting her arm across his belly. His hand automatically went into her hair, the other skimming over her arm.

"Just after Viv was born, Jared was out partying and he was drinking. It's what kids do, right? Like you said, most teenagers rebel in uniform ways. They go out, they consume illicit substances and listen to culturally inapposite music at high volume," He could feel her nod against his chest, "But after Jared drank, he did something incredibly stupid. He tried to drive home," Booth drew in a shaky breath, "He crashed into a tree and nearly split the car in two, he was going so fast. He didn't make it."

"Oh Seeley, I'm sorry," She tipped her head back to see his face, and rubbed her hand against his side. No wonder he clammed up when it came to his family. Opening the wounds, picking through the memories hurt. But sometimes, most of the time, it helped too.

Gulping, he continued, "It broke our parents. They never got over it. And Viv was just a baby. They could never get close to her, or be there for her. I think they always thought of Jared when they looked at Viv. It was like some sick trade off. A son for a daughter. Viv never had a chance. She tried so hard to get their attention. They were physically there, but emotionally," He stopped and closed his eyes, his mind's eye seeing his baby sister coming home day in and day out, trying everything to get their parents to care, to notice her. Then, when she had heartbrokenly given up.

Bones tried to imagine being in Vivian's shoes, having her parents there, but not. At least she had known her parents had loved her, when they were there. The poor girl hadn't had that chance. She cuddled closer to Booth's side, tightening her arm around him.

"Now, she only lets people in up to a certain point, but no further. It's her way of keeping the hurt out." Sound familiar? He was dying to ask, but bit his tongue, "She hides in her job and her work and wraps herself up in helping everybody else. Standing up for the kids who don't have anyone else to do it for them."

Tempe inched herself upward, until she was face to face with him. His hands were splayed over her sides, supporting her weight easily, "What about you? Does she keep you out too?"

"Sometimes, I think I've got past it all, and then there's another layer to get through," His eyes turned thoughtful for a moment, "Maybe she's more like you than Ange after all."

"You mean that she's brilliant and amazingly talented?"

"Yup."

"Then she can't resist you," Tempe whispered, "She'll let you in Seeley, she just needs time."

Nodding, Booth agreed, "I hope so."

"She will," Tempe repeated firmly.

Booth let his hold on Tempe slide a little. She began to slip, so that she rested directly against him.

"Yes ma'am," He muttered, before bringing his head up to hers. Surprising her, he softly pressed his lips to hers. She leaned impossibly closer, her hands framing his face. His hands were decidedly lower, no longer occupying the neutral positions at her waist.

Long moments later, Tempe snuggled against him, her head on his chest, both fell asleep.

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A knock at the door woke Booth at seven-thirty in the morning. Easing away from Tempe, he got out of bed. On his way to the door, he grabbed a shirt off the back of a chair and pulled it on. "I'm coming!" He called as the knock persisted, heavier than before.

"Hey," He gaped, stunned as he opened the door, "Tessa?" He began to do up the buttons on his shirt, leaving the top few undone.

"Hi," The beautiful blonde stood on his doorstep, holding tightly to a small box, "Umm, I wanted to return some things you left at my place. I thought I'd catch you before you left for work."

"Okay," Booth took the box she held out and set it on the table beside the door, "Ahh, thanks." Sifting through the contents, he came up with a disposable razor, a can of shaving cream that was almost empty, a shirt that was ripped beyond repair, and a book. Why was she returning this stuff? He wondered to himself. The book was the only thing that was actually _worth_ returning. And he wasn't he even sure if it was _his_.

"Sure." Neither could think of anything to say. Finally, it was Tessa who broke the silence, "Seeley, I was thinking. I know that we decided to spilt up weeks ago. And I know that things weren't good before. We were off more than we were on," She paused, Booth thought, for dramatic effect. Saying they had been off more than on was an understatement. After the case where he had been in LA, they didn't see each other for a month and a half. The occasional explosive night and fight was all that occurred in the months between then and now. No emotional connection, no intellectual connection, not on his side anyway. Why was she here now?

He was dragged from his thoughts by her voice, "But I've had a chance to step back and take a look at what we had. I was thinking that maybe we were too-" Booth waited for her to continue, unsure of how to tell her to buzz off without making a scene on his doorstep. But when her face changed and he heard the hitch in her breathing, he no longer had to worry about it.

Turning to look behind him, he saw Tempe standing in the doorway, an arm braced against the door casing. She was wearing his FBI shirt she seemed to have claimed as her own, the hem slicing her at mid thigh. Her feet and legs were bare. With her hair mussed and her eyes flecked with sleep, he thought she looked adorable. She was eyeing Tessa like the woman was a dangerous intruder. A smile threatened to overtake his face, but he fought it back.

"Well, I see that I've interrupted," Tessa gulped, backing out the door, "I should, I should go."

Before Booth could say another word, she was gone, the rev of an engine and the crunch of gravel left in her wake. Booth sat down on the arm of the couch, crossing his arms. He studied her carefully.

"What?" Tempe exclaimed, when she could no longer stand his scrutiny.

"You enjoyed that," He accused, but his eyes glinted jovially.

Instead of denying it, she shrugged, "She never liked me. I don't know why."

"She thought that you and me," He waggled a finger between the two of them and raised his eyebrows suggestively, "The night we split, for good, we got into a fight about it, among other stuff."

"She thought that you and I?" She mimicked the motion, then Booth could tell she was switching into science mode, "It is perfectly natural for an animal to feel threatened when they think their territory has been invaded. Although, I don't know what we ever did to project that kind of notion."

"Meh," He shrugged, ignoring the science lecture, he had become used to them, "She's the one who dumped me." He didn't mention that while he thought he would be saddened by the thought of loosing Tessa, he had only felt relief when she told him they should stop seeing each other. There had been a twinge or three of his pride, which had lasted all of a few days, and then he was relishing in his best friend's company, though Tessa's niggling accusations would sometimes crop up in his mind.

"Poor baby," Tempe teased, before she knew what was coming out of her mouth.

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	6. Visitors

**Title: **Visitors

**Summery:** Booth ponders; Tempe berates the legal system, and receives a visit from some people she wishes she hadn't.

**Disclaimer: **It's not mine! I swear! I'm just borrowing them; I will give them back. Maybe…

**Author's Note: **I am positively speechless about the support this story has received. Thank-you guys! You're all amazing! On another note, I have absolutely no idea how accurate my, ahem, legal calculations are. Lawyers are overworked right? Especially family ones, since everybody is getting divorced these days.

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They had called Amy Morton, the lawyer that owed them a favor. She had hooked them up with the number of a friend of hers in family law. Calling him before they left the house that morning, he had told them that it would take four to six weeks to have the appropriate papers drawn up, then to officially file for divorce, it would take approximately ninety days for it to become final. On the drive to the lab, while Tempe had rattled on about the decline of society and its effect on the legal system, Booth pondered the idea of not bothering to rectify their drunken mistake. For had it even been a mistake? Perhaps it had been destiny, fate, coincidence, or hell, if he stretched it, maybe even divine intervention. Maybe it had happened for no rhyme or reason. That didn't fly with Booth though, there had to be something that had drawn him and Bones together. Why hadn't it been Angela and him? Or Bones and one of her squints? Or Ange and one of the squints? Or even Zack and Hodgins? No, there had to be some reason that it had been he and Bones. Some underlying feelings, a kind of subconscious push perhaps? He knew he had had the feelings. But had she?

"Booth!" Tempe's voice broke his thoughts, "Seeley, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah darlin', I'm listening," Shifting gears, Booth glanced over at her. _I've got a nagging wife_, he thought feeling foolish as he grinned into thin air.

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Tempe was busily combing through the chaos that was her office when there was a knock at the door. Knowing that her usual visitors would simply enter and begin to speak when the door was open, she had no idea who was there.

"Come in," She said offhandedly.

"Doctor Brennan?" A familiar voice asked.

"Yes," When she straightened, Bones was faced with two beautiful blonde women. Both she recognized, though she was more familiar with one than the other. She began to feel herself on edge almost immediately.

"Hello Tessa," Tempe said with cool civility. She looked over to the other woman, "Rebecca. I'm sorry I forgot your last name."

She nodded, beaming her best reporter smile, "Rebecca Hardgraves. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Tempe replied in a tone that belied her statement.

"We're here because we think that you've been mislead," Rebecca began, seeming like she was pleased with herself.

"By whom?" Tempe asked, knowing full well whom they were there to badmouth.

"By Seeley Booth of course!" Tessa exclaimed, "You, of all people, must know what kind of man he is."

"I'd like to think so," Tempe assumed a defiant stance, her arms crossed over her chest, most of her weight resting on one hip.

"Well, then you know," Rebecca took a step closer to Tempe, "He's inflexible, he's pig headed, he's completely obstinate."

"And that's just the beginning," Tessa chimed in, "Do you know that he used to be a gambler?"

"Yes," Tempe sighed, these women weren't telling her a thing she didn't all ready know. She also wondered if Rebecca knew that she had just used three different synonyms for the same word.

"Really?" Rebecca sounded unbelieving while Tessa asked curiously, "How?"

"He told me," Tempe was enjoying watching their reactions to that.

"When could he have done that?" Tessa cried.

"A few months ago," They had been in Vegas on a case. The entire team had managed to come this time. On down times, Angela had tried to coerce both Tempe and Booth into joining the others at the casinos. Tempe simply wasn't interested, while Booth replied cryptically that he only gambled with his life, not his money. The two of them had instead spent their free time wandering the Strip. She had managed to entice the sordid story from him one evening when Angela's persistence had visibly grated on him. It had been right after he'd finished college. Unsure where to go, and having no one to turn to, he had fallen in with the wrong people. Realizing he had a problem, or actually being pushed by a remaining friend, he had cleaned up his act, with some help. He never denied that he hadn't been able to do it on his own. She had been sworn to secrecy, and found herself respecting him all the more for emerging from that and cleaning himself up and becoming all he had.

Slightly put off, Rebecca decided on another plan of attack, "You do know about his son?"

"Parker?" Tempe had to smile, "Of course."

"Then you know that he was born out of wedlock," Rebecca countered.

"Only because you wouldn't marry him," Tempe shot back, suddenly finding herself on the defensive.

"He should make more time for his child," Rebecca scoffed.

"You should let him see his child more," Tempe retorted, thinking back to the hurt on Booth's face when he had to beg to see his son. She remembered the Christmas they had been quarantined, and the day before when they had spoke of Booth's nearly nonexistent visitation rights.

While Rebecca gasped, Tessa, being a lawyer, saw an opening, and took it as her turn to reason with Tempe.

"He becomes completely absorbed in his work, and he forgets that you're alive," She began; keeping her voice like she still felt the sting of being forgotten. Tempe thought that this woman had probably never been forgotten in her life, "And he'll definitely forget you're alive when the next pretty woman comes along."

"I don't see why you're telling me all this," Tempe sat back into her desk chair. She had little to worry about in getting forgotten because of work. She was part of his work. But the comment about the next pretty woman had affected her, though she didn't show it. Why did she care anyway? It wasn't as if she had any actual claim to Booth… Okay, so she was married to him at the moment. They were going to get a divorce. Right? It wouldn't last. Wouldn't it? It couldn't, could it? Did she even want it to? There was a little piece of her screaming that he was family now; that she couldn't just let him go. But she couldn't make him stay, not if he wanted to leave.

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Outside Brennan's office, her three little minions were gathered, peering into the room.

"Poor Bren," Angela whispered, trying to get a better look.

"Booth's got good taste, I'll give him that," Hodgins whistled softly, "Look at those legs!"

While Angela accused Jack of being a chauvinist, Zack asked, "Why are Agent Booth's ex-girlfriends talking to Doctor Brennan?"

"Because sweetie, they want to warn her off," Angela explained, "Maybe they want him back. Even though they baulked."

"Baulked?" Both guys asked.

"They both baulked at stage six," She continued, "Neither was ready for that big commitment step apparently."

"What are you guys all looking at?"

A voice behind them made all three jump up and run into one another. Booth laughed at their impromptu Stooges re-enactment.

"You are a god among men man," Hodgins mocked bowing down, with Zack mimicking him.

Booth turned to Angela, who was clearly the brains of this operation, "What are they talking about?"

"Your exes are in Brennan's office," She answered swiftly, "I think they're warning her off." She then asked, "Did you date that reporter from Channel Five News? The one that did the story on Brennan's house? What was her name?"

"Rebecca Hardgraves," Booth sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face dismally. Leveling a hand on Zack's small shoulder, he looked for himself. Swearing softly under his breath, he said, "Yeah, that's her. And Tessa. This is bad. I'm doomed."

They all stayed gathered, all trying to catch a glimpse or a word from the conversation inside. It wasn't long until another voice scared them.

"What's going on?"

Again, the stooges were up and running, but didn't get far. Booth thrust his hand through his hair, "Doctor Goodman, ah, hey."

"What are you all standing about gaping at?" Goodman prompted, his administrative face firmly in place.

While each of the squints tried to come up with a plausible excuse, Zack was the first to speak, "Garnett, my beetle, got away, and they're helping me look for him."

"I see," Goodman looked as if he didn't believe him for a second.

"It's true!" Zack protested earnestly, "I can't find him anywhere, and if someone stepped on him…" He trailed off, thinking it maybe more believable that way.

Angela, trying to help the cause but trying to forget it was a flesh eating beetle, began calling, "Here Garnett, here little bug, come here little bug."

Zack sighed sorrowfully, "Dermestes Maculatus do not have ears. Ergo, they cannot hear you when you call them."

Angela looked down sheepishly, "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I want someone to tell me exactly what is going on here. Or," Goodman paused for dramatic effect, "All of you will spend the rest of the day scrubbing every lab and examination table clean with toothbrushes."

Booth snickered, "I'll see you guys later."

"That includes you as well Agent Booth," Goodman said.

Booth sobered quickly, "I don't think so sir."

"If you ever want my assistance in dealing with Doctor Brennan, you will stay exactly where you are."

It was Ange's turn to snicker, "I don't think he needs any help there."

While Curly and Larry giggled behind there hands, Dr. Goodman demanded, "What are you talking about Miss Montenegro? Is there something of which I should be made aware of?"

"Don't you watch the news?" Hodgins asked haughtily.

"As a matter of fact I missed it this weekend. My daughters were having their birthday party, and I was completely tied up in that," Goodman rubbed his temples, "I had fourteen five-year-olds rampaging through my house."

While Booth imagined the horror that he was sure to experience one day, Angela and Zack set to explaining the 'situation' to Dr. Goodman.

His reaction ranged from surprise and shock to nervousness, to worry, and finally, to jovial.

"I see you've had quite the weekend Agent Booth," He chuckled, Booth rolled his eyes, "Perhaps I should let you off. I foresee troubles in your future."

Booth hung his head. He was doomed. There was no doubt in his mind about it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tempe needed a way out. She needed to escape before she pulled her hair out strand by strand. She would prefer to be locked in a room with something that would _eat _her, or would make her spend hours in front of the channel that Hodgins was so fond of, or even force her to partake of her own _cooking,_ anything rather than these two. The two women had her trapped in her office, and she was sure they wouldn't let her go free until she came around to their way of thinking. Though their way of thinking was indubitably obtuse. They hadn't told her a thing about Booth she didn't all ready know. In fact, it seemed as if she knew more about him than his two previously serious (?) relationships.

"He's so meticulous. Everything has to be in the perfect spot or he goes crazy. He has to have everything _just so_." Rebecca told her.

"He's _so_ fastidious," Tessa added, "He organizes his closet by _color_."

Tempe had seen and learned both of these things first hand. She had always attributed Booth's being abnormally neat compared to the average male to his time in the military and the discipline that he had retained. He didn't go crazy though, when she didn't put things back where they had been. He simply unobtrusively moved whatever it was back to its original position. As for his closet, she guessed he had to have some filing system, or he would never find anything. She knew that she just took things off and tossed them into a pile. When the closet was empty, that was when she did laundry. Then the cycle began again. She was beginning to see the benefit to Booth's system.

"He doesn't listen," Tessa complained.

Tempe definitely had to disagree there. Booth was a terrific listener. Why else would he sit and listen to her babble about things she should be able to forget, or about work? Or about anything really? Lately, and it had deepened in the past few days especially, he had been her sounding board. At first it had been strange, but she had begun to draw back from telling Angela everything, and had begun seeking out Booth when she needed to talk. Angela was usually busy now that a new boyfriend had entered the picture, making Tempe feel superfluous. When she spoke, he listened. She could tell because of the impressive way he could recount conversations on menial things days, even weeks after. But before she could input anything on Booth's behalf, they were off again.

"He has to be right at every thing," Rebecca said, "And if he isn't, he sulks."

Okay, Tempe could attest to that. Partially. Booth could drive her crazy insisting he was right, and she had seen him sulk. Tittering to herself, she thought back to the car ride in LA, when she had threatened to report his lying on his car request sheet. He would push and push and push until she finally blew up in his face. He got some kind of perverse pleasure out of that.

"He gets jealous easily," Tessa accused, "I had a male friend that I used to meet after work and he got totally angry at me. For nothing. There was nothing going on between us."

"Until you slept with him," Rebecca murmured.

Tempe gasped. _Had Tessa cheated on Booth_? He had mentioned something about being concerned about it few weeks ago, a night they had taken their usual seats at Sid's. He hadn't drunk that night; just sipped at the coffee and picked at the pie Sid brought him. It was like pulling teeth, getting him to say what was wrong with him. He had left earlier than usual, dropping a few bills on the counter and squeezing her hand. He hadn't even called her Bones that night. The next day, he had been extremely preoccupied and had declined any and all efforts made to cheer him up. It became clear now, what had happened when he got home.

Undeterred by Rebecca's mention of her extracurricular activities, Tessa said, "He leaves the toilet seat up. It's the worst feeling to go to the bathroom at night and fall in."

Tempe laughed at that. Why was she complaining? That was bound to happen if you shared a bathroom with any man. She mentally congratulated herself for tucking that nightlight into the bathroom outlet. She wasn't going to fall in, thanks to her superb foresight.

Indignant, Tessa snapped, "You wouldn't find it near so funny if you had it happen to you."

But even Rebecca was giggling.

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Outside, Goodman had dispersed the waiting party. Booth was leaning between saving Bones or going back to his own office and finishing the mountain of paper work waiting for him. Not wanting to put himself through unnecessary danger, he opted for heading back to his paper work, leaving a message with Angela for Bones to call him when she was released. Praying she wasn't too angry with him when she was through, he drove back to the bureau building. Maybe he ought to head over to a church instead.

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It was lunchtime when Tempe was alone in her office again. _Finally_! She felt like screaming. That had been one of the most tedious experiences of her entire life. Now all she wanted to do was not see another human being for a lo-o-o-o-o-o-n-g time. Angela chose that exact moment to stick her head in the door,

"Hey sweetie."

Tempe turned aggravated eyes up at her best friend, "Hello," She replied curtly.

"Somebody's in a mood," Angela sing-songed, entering the room and seating herself in one of the chairs in front of the desk, "What's wrong girl?"

While Tempe poured out her frustrations, Angela listened attentively. She knew she hadn't done this as much as she should have lately, but she was going to try to do better. She also had noticed the fact that Bren had started to tell Booth so much more. Even before their marriage, they had gotten closer in the past few months. Meeting outside of the office, calling each other even more. There was no way Bren could convince her that _all _those calls had been about cases. Booth had even been Bren's escort to the last museum charity event. If that didn't say something to a hardened matchmaker like Angela Montenegro, nothing could. Something had been brewing between the, she had to giggle, newlyweds for a while now. Perhaps being temporarily incapacitated had numbed their inhibitions and their true feelings had come out. Angela knew that Bren especially was not good at opening up to anyone, but she seemed to be doing so well with Booth. There was something about the sexy FBI agent that drew out Bren's inner thoughts and feelings. Angela was just hoping he would keep it up.

When she was finished talking, Tempe took a deep gulp of air. Airing her grievances had helped, Tempe no longer felt as if she was going to flay the next _homo sapien _she saw. She hadn't realized she was holding her hands palm up, until Angela asked,

"Bren, what's that on your hands?"

Embarrassed, Tempe dropped her hands into her lap, under the desktop. Angela raised an eyebrow at Tempe's sudden movements and hidings, "Bren?" She said like a mother speaking to a disobedient child.

"They're band-aids," Tempe muttered.

"Band-aids?" Angela squeaked, "What happened?"

After Tempe had explained the story behind the Big Bird band-aids, Angela had melted into a puddle of romantic mush. It was now cemented in her mind how perfect Booth and Bren were for each other.

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That afternoon, Booth sat in his office, at his desk, pen still poised over his slowly dwindling paperwork pile. He hadn't heard from Bones for hours, he wasn't sure if it was because Angela had forgotten to relay his message, or because Bones had been in such a bad mood she wouldn't pick up the phone. He really, _really_ wanted to believe it was the first one.

His cell phone began vibrating in his hip pocket. Taking it out and flipping it open, he saw Bones' number on the caller id,

"Hey Bones. How goes it?"

"It goes fine," She replied curtly, "Now."

"Baby, I had no idea they were gonna show up on you. You've got my word on that," Again, it had slipped, the endearment being so close to her nickname, or so he told himself.

"I believe you," He was breathing easier that she hadn't locked onto the 'new' nickname. Her heart was doing a little happy dance; her mind wasn't sure how she liked being called someone's _baby_. She was an independent, self-sufficient woman. Even if it gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. That feeling was presenting its self _way _too often in regards to Booth.

"So," He said coyly, "What did they say?"

"Nothing good," Tempe smiled, "They told me how you were a horrible person, and that you went crazy at the slightest mess, and you were a gambling, selfish, workaholic _man_!" Okay, she thought, so that wasn't exactly what they said, and it wasn't exactly how she had taken it, but hey, it was fun to mess with Booth.

"_What_?" He exclaimed baffled, "Okay man I can understand, maybe even workaholic. But selfish? And I don't gamble any more! You know that!"

Maybe she had taken it a bit to far. He was definitely messed with.

"Sweetie, calm down," The endearment had just slipped, she swore it had. Besides, it was so similar to his actual name that he most likely wouldn't notice it. He did.

"What did you call me?" He asked, even more baffled than before.

"It's nothing," She mumbled, "Besides," She accused, her voice gaining force, "_You've_ been calling me _things_ too!"

He chuckled, "Things?"

"Yes, _things_," She sputtered, growing agitated.

"What kinds of _things_?" He took the same tone she did when saying the word.

"Like, like," She groaned, "You actually want me to say them?"

"Yes," Leaning back in his chair, he got more comfortable, "I actually want you to say them"

"Fine," She hissed venomously, "You've called me babe, baby, Bones," He interrupted her,

"Bones doesn't count, I always call you Bones."

"It does too count!" She insisted, "I told you over and over not to call me that."

"You haven't said a word about it in weeks," He returned.

"Well, I've grown used to it," She stammered, trying to avoid his discovering that she had also grown fond of it, "Anyway, you also called me darlin' this morning when we were driving to work, and you called me your girl before too! I am _not_ a girl, _nor_ do I belong to you!"

"Whoa, okay, take a breath darlin'," Booth admonished, "I didn't mean to offend you. And," He threw in, because he knew it would rile her further, "You did call me _your man_ yesterday, remember?"

"_That _was Angela!" It had worked; she was riled.

"And _you_ didn't venture to correct her, did you?" At her silence, he continued, "I didn't think so."

She heaved a deep, aggravated sigh, then exhaled hard. He followed her lead, "If you want me to stop, then I will. I don't want to put any more strain on our marriage if at all possible. Do you want me to stop?" Waiting quietly for her answer, he pushed his chair back farther, and snatched the stress ball off the shelf behind him. He was going to need it. But he wouldn't change a thing about _his girl_.

He almost didn't catch her reply, "No," She whispered dismally.

Still, he made her repeat it, to make sure he had heard right, "What did you say?"

"No," She repeated louder, "No! Are you deaf?"

Glossing over the last question she had biffed at him, he asked one of his own, "No what?"

She made a defeated sound in her throat, "No, I don't want you to stop."

"No you don't want me to stop what?" Man, he was having **way** too much fun with this, he thought.

Man, he was having **way** too much fun with this, she thought. She knew he wouldn't let up until she said what he wanted her to. He was that bloody stubborn. But did he know how much a blow to her pride this was?

"No, I don't want you to stop calling me Bones, or any other of your silly little nicknames. For some unknown reason, I find them," She couldn't believe she was actually saying this, "Attractive."

Sniggering, he asked, "See, was that so hard?"

She had never wished so hard as she had at that moment that she could reach through the phone lines and cheerfully ring his smug neck.


	7. Nerves

**Title: **Nerves

**Summery: **Zack meets the sister, Angela's into amphibians, Hodgins gets left out, and Bren worries about Booth's temperature.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bones. If I did, it would be on every week, not whenever they can fit it around American Idol!

**Author's Notes: **Finally, I posted again! You guys rock! This story has _way _more reviews than any other story I've done. And most of them have more chapters. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Not to cause any confusion, but I reposted chapter five, Give Me My Space, because of some irregularities I spotted. You may want to go back and skim through it just to make sure some stuff makes sense.

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Booth had been the first to arrive at Wong Foos, then Angela, Bones, and Zack. They had barely skirted around Hodgins. Guiltily, Zack had slunk out of the museum and crawled into the backseat of Angela's car. Zack got a direct impression that Booth had specifically asked for him to come and that gave Zack a fuzzy feeling inside. He had spent forever trying to gain Booth's approval and now he was inviting him to go out with him. He, Zack Addy, was being asked to go hang out with the big kids. The cool kids. It wasn't his fault Hodgins pissed Booth off.

Inside the restaurant, Booth had seated himself on his usual stool. Sid was standing in front of him, a drink in hand, his head thrown back, roaring at something Booth had said. Brennan, Angela and Zack walked in just in time to hear Sid tell Booth,

"I think you're gonna need a stiffer drink than that tonight man."

Tempe took the stool beside Booth, brushing against his arm as she did, making both extremely aware of the close proximity of the other, "What have you been telling people?"

He shrugged, "The truth. That a bad thing?" Something made him want to reach over and give her a kiss, even leaned in slightly, then pulled away at the last second. Probably habit, he thought to himself. The past couple of days they had fallen into a pattern where physical contact was allowed, accepted, even expected, but now with the squints watching she projected an aura that screamed _off-limits_.

"Depends on what truth you're telling," She quipped. Darn, she thought. He had been going to _kiss_ her. And he had backed off. She found herself sulking when he pulled out of her personal space.

Booth rolled his eyes and went back to his drink. Angela and Zack stood behind them, exchanging confused looks. It was as if they had just walked in on some very intricate and private ritual.

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They all had settled around the restaurant. Angela's most recent boyfriend had arrived and been introduced as Toad (he's in a band, Angela had announced proudly), a man of very few words and long, past the shoulder length blond hair. Zack had eyed him curiously, as if studying him like he would something under a microscope. Toad barely seemed to notice Zack's stares or Booth and Brennan's incredulous looks, his eyes were glassy with boredom and he had an aloof air about him. When Angela had led Toad to an empty table in the back corner, Booth turned to his wife,

"So, Angela's into amphibians now?"

Tempe shrugged, "This is the first time I've met the guy."

"One word," Booth quipped, "Ribbit."

Tempe raked her hand through her auburn hair, looking dubiously at her husband. He merely shrugged and leveled a devastatingly handsome grin that made her feel like someone was giving her heart a squeeze. Her face began to feel very warm where his eyes touched her skin.

"The guy gives me the willies," Zack announced, from Booth's elbow. He didn't bother mentioning that toads don't ribbit.

"The willies?" Booth chuckled, "What, are you seventy or somethin'?" Teasing Zack was automatic, as all his attention was focused like a laser beam on Tempe, enjoying the fresh flush her face had taken on.

"What?" Zack, confused, head turning one mentor to the other for affirmation, "It's just a word. Right Doctor Brennan?"

While that started a war on what words were over used, under used, and some that just shouldn't be used at all. Zack felt like a ping-pong ball as his head swung from one to the other.

-----------------------------------------------------

Now the argument had dimmed and Zack sipped a sprite. Booth and Brennan were off in their own world, leaning into each other's personal space, their heads bent close, leaving Zack to entertain himself. He began to wonder why he had been invited in the first place.

The door opened, and the bell above it trilled. A woman stepped inside. Once in the door, she pulled an elastic from her hair, letting her hazelnut brown hair float over her shoulders. She wore a denim jacket that hit at the hips and came in just enough at the waist, with a pair of low slung, light wash jeans. Under the jacket, was a tight red shirt, with a bit of white lace peeking up from the deep v-neck. Between the jeans and the shirt, Zack could see about two inches of pale midriff. The woman was heading in this direction, Zack's head screeched. Her eyes were dark brown, and her face was lightly dusted with neutral shades of make-up.

"Hey Seel, what's up?" The woman stopped in front of Booth. _Dammit_, Zack thought.

"What's this?" Swiveling on the stool, Booth indicated the exposed bit of skin of the woman's torso.

"This?" The woman chuckled, "I know you hate science and anatomy and all that bro, but this," She swiped both hands across her middle, "This is called my stomach."

Tempe laughed a little at the look on Booth's face, then turned and smiled at the woman, "Hello Vivian."

"Hello Doctor Brennan," Vivian plopped down on the empty stool between Booth and Zack, "How long have y'all been here?"

"Not long," Brennan answered, while Booth signaled Sid. When Sid reached them at the counter, he mock gasped,

"If it ain't the kid!" He reached out and chucked the woman, _Vivian_, under the chin, "Haven't seen you forever kid. Where've ya been hiding?"

"New York," Vivian shucked the jacket, spreading it over her lap, "How's life been treatin' you Sids?"

"Can't complain," Sid gave the counter a final swipe with his rag then tossed it off in the corner, "I'll be right back." Then Sid was off.

Zack hunched down over his drink. Maybe if he was real quiet, and didn't move too much or anything, she wouldn't notice him and he could _observe _her. He was almost absolutely sure that there was no possible way he was going to actually muster up the courage to talk to her.

"Zack," Booth's voice startled Zack, making him spill his drink on the counter. Grabbing a few napkins, Zack dabbed at the mess while trying to compose himself.

"Zack," Booth was trying _hard _not to laugh at Zack's nervousness, the glares he was receiving from Tempe made him assume he had better, "This," He laid a hand on Vivian's small shoulder and squeezed gently, "Is my baby sister, Vivian. Viv, this is Zack. He's one of the squints, and," Booth added slyly, "usually more coordinated." No one noticed the nudge and annoyed look Brennan gave Booth. Nor the petulant look he sent back.

Vivian beamed a smile at Zack, "Hey," Zack could feel his throat close over, and he could barely push the one syllable, "Hi," out. All he could think was; _she's so pretty!_

Vivian turned back to Booth and raised a delicate eyebrow. Booth shrugged one shoulder; he hadn't ever introduced the kid to a girl before. He hadn't expected Zack to go comatose. Maybe stutter a little, or say something completely weird, but not go into shock.

Tempe studied Zack's face. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off Vivian, but whenever he tried to speak, he couldn't seem to make the words come out. _Poor little guy_, she thought.

_Say something_ _you idiot_, Zack mentally admonished himself, w_hy can't you say anything_? Zack wanted to say something to Vivian, wanted to strike up a conversation. He even had an opening line, and it wasn't one of those cheesy ones Hodgins had taught him. He **definitely** couldn't use any of _those_ on Booth's sister, _especially_ with Booth listening. That would be just stupid. Zack began to see why Booth hadn't invited Hodgins.

Excusing himself to go to the bathroom, Zack nearly fell off the stool and then almost tripped over his own feet. Mumbling something that sounded like he was scolding himself, Zack headed off. As soon as Zack was out of earshot, Vivian swiveled to Booth,

"Are you trying to set me up?" She asked matter-of-factly.

"What! No!" Booth shook his head a little too vigorously, "Would I do that?"

"Would you?" She countered, "Seeley, the poor guy is about to crap himself, he's so nervous!"

"I'm not trying to set you and Zack up," Booth persisted, "I promise. I just thought that maybe you could get the kid to loosen up a little. He's wound tighter than one of his bugs."

"He collects bugs?" Vivian made a face that asked; _what have you gotten me into?_

"Not collects bugs," Booth began, but Tempe interjected, "They're flesh eating beetles, we use them to clean the remaining tissues off of corpses."

While Vivian shook herself, Sid appeared, setting a glass of cola in front of Vivian. Pointing at Booth, he admonished, "What did I tell you about them squints of yours?"

"I'm sorry," Booth said, and then turned to Tempe, "Babe, no dead stuff where people eat."

"But, if you really think about it, people actually _eat_ dead stuff. I mean, you kill a cow before you eat it; you kill a pig before you eat it. And remember the guy that was eating dead _people_?" Tempe took a sip of her drink, clearly unaware of the couple not far from them who cringed and pushed their plates away. She was just as unaware that Booth had slipped in one of his pet names. Or perhaps it was because she was so used to them.

Sid gave Booth a dirty look. Booth sent him one of apology. Vivian pressed a hand over her eyes and shook her head. Tempe was oblivious to the fact that what she had said might be the slightest bit inappropriate.

------------------------------------------------------

In the bathroom, Zack was giving himself a pep talk.

_Okay, you can do this. It's just a girl. You've done this before. You can do it again. It's not like you're gonna propose within days, you're just gonna talk to her. That's all. You can do it. She isn't expecting you to be some kind of James Bond. Or even a Booth. Just be you and she'll like you for that._

Zack nearly argued with him, not all girls liked him. He couldn't get up the courage to talk to most girls. But this girl, he didn't know what made her special. But he had just met her, and something inside of him had twisted when she had turned and smiled at him. He smiled dreamily at himself in the mirror, then inhaled deeply, gathered his courage, and strode back into the main restaurant area, thinking,

_I can do this._

His eyes on the counter, he saw Vivian. She turned around on her stool and smiled at him. That something inside of Zack twisted again, and he walked straight into a table.

_No I can't._

His mind was beginning to yell, _Retreat! Retreat! Before she notices!_ But she all ready had. She winced sympathetically when he collided, then slipped off the stool and came towards him.

_Oh my God. She's coming this way. She's coming this way! What do I do? What do I do?_

Not having any idea as to what to do, Zack spun around, and ended up landing on the floor. Seconds later, he saw Vivian's face hovering above him,

"Are you all right?" She bent down beside him and offered him a hand.

His hand was trembling as he placed it in hers. _Her skin is so smooth and soft_, Zack thought, trying to be steady on his feet.

"Ye-yeah," He stuttered, "I'm okay."

" 'Cause you fell pretty hard there," She pulled him upright, "Are you sure?"

The look on her face was so concerned, he wanted to just crawl under one of the tables and hide. He could feel his upper thigh begin to throb from where it had connected with the table. But he forced himself to bare his teeth in a spastic rendition of a smile. She smiled back and he melted, nearly landing his ass on the floor again.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tempe and Booth were still leaning together, their heads bent, near forehead to forehead. But that didn't mean that Zack's spill had gone unnoticed.

"I hope he's okay," Tempe murmured. Damn, but Booth was close. She had this intense urge to lean in even closer. She could practically _feel_ his lips on hers. What hit her hardest was that she _wanted_ to. She had known for a long time that she cared about Booth, had even entertained the idea that those feelings went deeper than platonic. More than entertained. She was positive. It was definitive. There was something about the way her breath caught and her heart raced when he stepped close. Right now though, she was wishing he would lean just a little bit closer.

"Poor kid," Booth clucked his tongue. He could feel Bone's warm breath on his cheek. Turning his head to her, he could feel it on his mouth, and it drove him crazy. He had known forever that he had feelings for Bones. He was a very perceptive person, he knew who he was, knew what he wanted and how to get it. And he wanted to be more than just friends with Bones. Wanted to keep her. Wanted to protect her, and keep her safe, to hold her. She may see that as him being an arcane male, but maybe he was. She may see that as him trying to make himself dominant over her, but he wasn't. It was what he did for the ones he loved. He took care of them. Now he had his chance to hold onto her. One like this wouldn't come around again. He tipped his head centimeters closer, holding back was torture.

Damn him. _Damn him_. Tempe was having the hardest time controlling herself, when all she wanted was to reach forward, cup a hand around the back of his head and swoop her lips on his. Nobody had ever drawn these kinds of feelings and impulses from her. She was usually so reserved, so held back. But now, she could barely stop herself. She brushed her leg against his, the expression on her face of total innocence. His eyes flickered with the same look they had when he had kissed her scraped hands. Her eyes demurely downcast, she did it again, this time letting her leg rest against his.

She was playing a game he didn't intend to lose. He only hoped she knew what she was doing. He didn't imagine Bones was schooled in the arts of flirting. He knew she was capable, but this was uncharted territory. He didn't think that the nutty professor had inspired this kind of action in his little student. Booth remembered what he had been thinking when he watched Bones and Dr. Styers prance around the intellectual arena, both trying to outdo each other. Something deep inside boiled up until he realized, he was _jealous_. He couldn't admit it to anyone. He also remembered wanting to shove Styers' words back down his throat when he had denounced Bones' work and her vocation on the witness stand. Seeing her eyes, eyes he _loved_, fill with tears broke his heart. It had forced his hand, made him let out a single secret that he knew she would make him pay for later. He had actually stopped Styers in the hallway later, although Bones didn't know. He had lit into the 'good' professor with a vengeance, quiet anger building up in the back of his throat until he had to do something or choke.

He moved his hand and rested it inches away from where Bones' hand rested on the counter. Their eyes locked and challenged. Who would move first? Who would be the first to admit? Who would be the first to make a move?

Both leaned in. I can't take this anymore; Tempe thought; this is illogical. One of us has to do_ something._

I can't take this anymore, Booth thought; I've got to do_ something_. This is stupid

Both leaned closer. Booth's hand slid over Tempe's on the counter, his thumb softly scraping across her skin. They shared a breath, then their lips brushed. Both could taste it,

"What the hell!"

At this angry exclamation, they sprang apart. Turning, they saw a red faced, curly haired entomologist standing seething in the doorway.

"What is this?" Hodgins exclaimed, his voice shrill, "Date night?"

Booth and Brennan were yanked from the haze that had surrounded them. Looking around, they saw Vivian and Zack seated together at one end of the counter, and Angela and Toad at their table.

"Did you guys think I couldn't get a date?" Hodgins continued, "Because you'd be sadly mistaken. I could have gotten a date, if someone had thought to fill me in on your little gathering. I so could have got a date, women love me, and you know it."

"What are you doing here?" Brennan asked curiously, still focused on Booth, wishing they hadn't been interrupted. Booth scrubbed a hand over his face, holding in a heavy sigh.

"I came here to grab a bite to eat on my way home," Hodgins thrust his hands into his pockets, "You even brought Zack, and you couldn't ask me?" He looked hurt.

Before either Booth or Brennan could say another word, Hodgins turned on his heel and strode from the restaurant. They looked at each other, eyes wide and somewhat confused as to the hurried anger and appearance of Jack Hodgins.

------------------------------------------------------

Vivian and Zack hadn't noticed Hodgins storm in or out. They were completely immersed in their own conversation. After helping Zack limp to a stool, they had watched each other for a few awkwardly long moments. Finally, Vivian had asked Zack what he did at the museum. That had opened him up quickly. Talking about his work was something he could do, to anyone and everyone that would listen. He had explained about nearly every machine they use in the lab and had begun on the different processes of using them when he noticed her eyes were glossed over as if she was trying to appear interested.

"I'm sorry," He gushed, "I'm probably putting you to sleep. I just keep going on and on and on," He was rambling. He does that when he gets nervous.

"It's okay, really," She assured him, "You're very passionate about your work."

_Passionate, _Zack gaped, _she said passionate to me!_

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Honey, we're gonna get going," Angela unwound herself from Toad to squeeze Tempe's forearm.

"All right," Tempe replied, almost painfully tearing her eyes from Booth's.

"See ya tomorrow Ange," Booth added. Noticing the look in her eyes, Booth then excused himself to the washroom. After informing Toad that she would meet him at the car, Angela turned back to Tempe,

"You two were s-o-o-o-o-o-o caught up in each other," She grinned hugely, "I thought I could sense some serious ST going down."

"I don't know what that means," Tempe quipped, then, muttering under her breath said, "I don't know how could have sensed anything, you spent the entire evening with Toad's tongue down your throat."

After Angela got over the initial shock, she took Tempe's accusation in stride, "Sweetie, I'm a woman. I can multitask."

Tempe's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide.

"Oh, come on girl!" Angela exclaimed, "You've got the hottest guy in the place hanging all over you!"

"Booth is not hot," Tempe replied, confused, "His temperature is completely normal."

"Honey, _no_. I meant that," Deciding she needed outside conformation, Angela tapped the shoulder of the closest woman, "You saw the guy with her, right?" Something in Angela's slightly fuzzy brain clicked, she had seen this woman before. But where?

The woman shot confused looks to her date, who began to speak, "Ange, I think-"

Angela cut him off, "Shush Zack, I only need her attention for a second."

"Y-yeah, I've seen him," Zack's date answered, confused.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Angela persisted, "I mean, he's totally hot right?"

"Um," The woman looked from Tempe to the countertop in front of her. Her face twitched slightly, "I might have a biased opinion."

"Huh?" Angela asked, this time she was confused.

A large hand clapped her on the back, "Ange," Booth said, "Meet Vivian, my baby sister."

Angela had practically fled after that, leaving a trail of boisterous laughter in her wake. Leaving also, a peculiar first impression for Vivian. She watched Tempe and Seeley laugh until they were nearly in tears, Seeley having to explain a few slang terms to his wife,

"No, Bones, when she said I was hot she didn't mean that I was sick," Seeley protested as Tempe flattened a palm to his forehead, checking his temperature.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

They talked about where they had gone to college, Zack in a remote private college, Vivian winning a full ride to Columbia. Zack told her all about his family containing several siblings, his parents, thirteen first cousins, eight second cousins, and other relatives thrown into the mix. Vivian was sparser with her familial rendition, saying she hadn't known many of the relatives, that she had only two brothers.

"So, what are you doing here in DC?" Zack asked, "Are you just down to visit Booth?" He secretly hoped that there was something that would keep her around longer.

She took a sip of her drink before replying, "I actually have an interview for a job."

"What kind of job?" He asked, then immediately felt stupid for asking, "I know what kind of job, you're a social worker, but I mean-"

She pressed a fingertip to his lips, "Shhh…"

Zack stopped talking, shocked. He had been rambling again.

"It's in a community centre downtown. It's in a pretty tough neighborhood, and they have an in-house social worker," She removed her finger, "The old guy that works there now is retiring. They want someone who's up on the new studies and techniques and can still relate to the kids. As soon as I heard about this job, I couldn't get out of New York fast enough."

"Why?"

"I just graduated last year, but I had been interning part time at Social Services since the September before. After I graduated, I started working full time. I didn't do so well there."

"Why?"

"The old guy in charge, Dr. Bernard, and I never saw eye to eye."

"Why?" Zack felt like he was a stereo stuck on repeat.

"It was little things," She cupped her hand around her glass, "We never could agree. I would suggest something new, and he would want to go with the way he's always done it. He was so set in his ways. Nobody could ever get him to do anything. Whenever I would try to explain something to him, he would keep telling me not to worry my pretty little head over it. I don't know if it was just me, or if he wasn't really fond of all women. It drove me crazy."

Zack nodded, agreeing. He was lucky Dr. Brennan listened to him. He understood that a lot of people didn't have it as good in their jobs as he did at his.

Chuckling, Vivian continued, "Explains why he never married though."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"You know, it's weird," Vivian said a while later, when both of them had disclosed much more, "I think I just told you more in the past hour than I've told anyone."

Zack nodded, "Me too. It's strange how that happens."

Vivian smiled softly, Zack nearly melting, "How come you're so easy to talk to?"

"How come you are?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he was cursing himself for saying something so terribly corny. But she just chuckled and smiled again. Zack felt like he was drowning. They said nothing for long moments, just stared at each other. Zack could feel himself being drawn forward, Vivian feeling the same pull. They seemed inches apart when a melodious voice spoke by Vivian's ear,

"I gotta close up," Both jerked back in their seats, and looked up at Sid. He wore a playful expression on his face and held a cleaning rag in his hand. Glancing around, Vivian could see the restaurant had emptied. In fact, not even Seeley and Bren remained.

"Okay, sure Sid," Vivian grabbed her coat from the back of her chair, Zack doing the same, "We're going."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Sid called as they exited the building.

Zack stuck his head back in the door, "Could you give me a list of what you would do so I can make sure not to deviate?"

Flicking the rag in his direction, Sid admonished, "You better not do no deviatin', or Booth'll shoot ya right between the eyes."

Zack scurried away.

"Where's your car?" Vivian asked as they strolled through the parking lot.

"Angela was my ride," Zack moaned.

"I can give you a ride home if you want," Vivian offered, "Though you may not want it after you see my car. I know how you feel about structural integrity."

"It can't be that bad," At the edge of the parking lot, Vivian stepped forward, and patted the hood of the lone car. It was small, with only two doors. The driver's side door was a light blue, and peering around Zack could see that the passenger door was a darker shade, but still blue. The rest of the car was a rusty red color.

Gulping, Zack tried to stop his eyes from expanding to the size of saucers, "It's, it's, it's not that bad," He stuttered, "N-n-n-n-n-nice car."

"Yeah, I told you I wasn't in it for the money," Vivian carefully opened the driver's side door, "If you're scared, we can always call ya a cab."

"I'm not scared," Zack protested.

Vivian bit back a grin, appealing to his bravado was working, "You just look so, unsettled. I mean it. If you're afraid-" She let the offer dangle, waiting for him to take the bait.

"I'm not scared," He repeated resolutely, "I'm not scared." Defiantly, he yanked open the passenger side door, both of them wincing as it creaked and groaned from the abuse. With firmly set lines around his mouth, he dropped onto the car seat, tense fingers pulling the seat belt around him and snapping it into place.

"I'm not gonna kill you," Vivian teased as she pulled the car onto the street.

"I know," He said, holding tight to the seat belt clasp.

"Okay," Vivian murmured softly as she guided the car around a corner.

------------------------------------------------

"Told you I wasn't gonna kill ya," Vivian announced as she pulled up in front of Zack's garage apartment.

"Yeah," Zack had begun to loosen his grip on the seat belt clasp about half way home. Now he propped his elbow on the window ledge, "Thanks."

"No problem," Vivian answered absently, gazing wide-eyed around the place, "This place is amazing!"

Zack grinned, and pointed out a few landmarks, "There's the tennis courts, and the woods is right behind them. There's a glade not far in there with a beautiful pond."

"Wow," Vivian gave a low whistled, "You are so lucky."

Zack nodded. A quick glance at his watch told him it was twelve-thirty. Hiking a thumb towards the garage, he said gentlemanly, "I'd better get going. Maybe we can-can- uh," He was beginning to regain all the nervousness he had thought, _hoped_, he had lost.

Using a hand planted on the back of her seat and the other on the dashboard as leverage, Vivian lifted herself forward, pressing her lips against Zack's cheek,

"I had a great time. We should_ definitely _get together again," Another one of her smiles, and Zack had to pour himself from the car.

-------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note 2: **I am so sorry that this chapter took so long. Hopefully this was worth the wait. Read and review, please and thank-you! I'll try super hard to get the next chapter up without taking forever, but I've hit a bit of writer's block. Suggestions always welcome! Oh, yeah, quick reminder for anyone who doesn't know, ST stands for sexual tension.


	8. Three Little Words

"Bones

**Title: **Three Little Words

**Summery:** Three little words can change everything.

**Disclaimer: **No Bones, no money. Woohoo on the second season pick-up!

**Author's Note: **I'm back again! Sorry for taking so long! I'm working my way through the clogged maze I call my mind. Also, I apologize about the definitely, defiantly mix-up. That's what happens when you rely entirely too much on spell check.

--

"Bones."

He received no verbal response. Instead another searing kiss that sent electrical like currents coursing through his body. They had made their way from the car into the house and down the hall; barely breaking the kiss that had begun again the moment the car's engine had rumbled to a stop. They had disregarded all earlier boundaries, now nothing about her screamed _don't touch_. For both it was the exact opposite. Though this was the kind of interaction he had been craving, there was a niggling little thought poking through. He managed to free up enough of his mouth to try again,

"Bones."

Again no response. He tried another tactic,

"Temperance."

The use of her name, her full name, demanded her attention. For he rarely used her given name, instead preferring the nickname he had christened her. He only used 'Temperance' in an instance of great importance.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes hazy. He looked worried, she thought through the fog that grasped her mind. Concernedly, she pressed a palm to his cheek, "What's wrong?"

Tightening the arms that were wrapped around her middle, he assured, "Nothing's wrong."

Her other hand was placed on his chest, her thumb lightly stroking over his collarbone. There was something, otherwise he wouldn't have interrupted their actions. She could tell that he was enjoying himself, "Then what is it?" She could feel his heart beat faster under her hand.

"Are you sure?" His eyes searched her face. _What was he doing?_ _What in the _hell _was he doing? _ She was offering it to him, and _now _he was backing away? He had been waiting for so long for this to happen. But he couldn't let her go through with it. Not if she'd come to regret it.

"Sure about what?" Her voice, her expression, both was confused.

"Sure you want to do this," He swallowed, praying she wasn't taking this as rejection, "With me?"

_Oh_, she thought. Did he doubt her affection for him? She thought that he understood. Maybe she needed to be more direct; Angela always said that men needed things spelled out for them. A smile fell over her face,

"If I wasn't sure," She let her fingers slip through his hair, gauging his reaction, "I wouldn't have started it."

She leaned in once more, and again he backed away. He didn't want her, a siren in her head blasted. How could she have so grossly misjudged his feelings for her? She started to pull away, but his hands tightened and held her in place.

"Let go," She pulled, but he held fast.

"Bones, I can't do a one time thing with you," She interrupted,

"Technically, it would be a two time thing."

He eyed her sternly, "You know what I mean. If we do this, we can't go back. I," He sighed, "If we do this, and you leave," She interrupted again,

"I'm not going anywhere sweetie." She thought she was perfectly clear; she even used one of his endearments. And still, he was getting exasperated,

"Would you just let me say this?!"

"Fine," She said patronizingly, "Say it."

Now or never, he thought, "Dammit Bones, I love you," He watched her, waiting for a reaction He mentally kicked himself for blowing the whole thing. When she just gaped at him, not saying a word, he blurted nervously,

"It's okay if you don't want to say anything now or even if you-," He kept rambling until she pressed two fingers to his lips,

"Would you shut up long enough for me to say it back?"

His eyes went wide, but he said nothing, just watched her.

"I," She paused, gathered her breath and courage, "I don't want just a one or a two time thing with you either. I love you."

He kissed her finger, then he kissed her.

"I don't know why," She said between kisses, "You're the most irritating, the most aggravating man I've ever met, you dismiss my-" Booth pressed his lips to hers, silencing her,

"Babe, you're killing the mood," He whispered in her ear, then began dusting kisses down her neck, "You're skin's so soft," He murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

They resumed making their way down the hall, hands everywhere, no holding back on either of their parts. Booth kicked the bedroom door with his heel. Tempe navigated them through the room, avoiding the obstacles as they approached the bed. Holding her so she would land on top of him, Booth fell back onto the bed, taking her with him.

His hands raked over her, scraping over raw nerve endings, and she whimpered in the back of her throat. She trailed her nails over his sides, smiling, pleased, as he groaned. They kissed ravenously, pouring all of their feelings and passion into it. No reserve, no restraint. This time, they thought at the simultaneously, they were going to remember everything.

--

"That was, whoa."

"You're speechless, I am that good," Booth chuckled, enjoying the feel of her nestled in a sated puddle of tired flesh beside him, "I have a feeling Angela's gonna want more details than that tomorrow."

Tempe turned inquisitive eyes on him, "Why do you think I'd tell her?"

"Come on babe, she's your best friend. Besides, the second you walk in the door in the morning, she'll be at you," His fingertips glided over her arm from shoulder to elbow and back again. His arms were tight around her, keeping her close. No one was getting her now. She was his. He could still hear her voice when she had said those three little words. It made him laugh; even when they were professing their love they were fighting.

"How would she know anything happened?" Tempe muttered, snuggling closer, her fingers drawing lazy circles on his chest. _I love you._ Those words still played in her head. She chose to ignore the exasperated expletive that had come before them. No man had ever said those words to her before. Never. And she had told them to no other man. They'd never really seemed to carry until kind of special weight before. Until him.

"Subtle physiological indicators Bones," He let his head drop back against the pillow tiredly, "Angela's got a knack for this kinda stuff." His eyelids drooped.

"What kind of indicators?" Tempe asked, trying to avoid pending interrogation. When he didn't answer, she lifted herself up on an elbow to see his face, "Booth?" She found his eyes closed. Smiling, she wriggled back against him, pillowing her head on his chest. With a comfortable sigh, she fell asleep.

--

Tempe almost floated into work the next morning. Angela watched carefully as her best friend meandered through the forensics department to her office, a dreamy smile on her face. Something was up, Angela thought resolutely. Making up her mind to discern all the details, she slapped down her sketchbook and hurried to Tempe's office. She found Brennan seated at her desk, sifting aimlessly through a pile of papers that had been stacked on her desk for nearly a week now. The look on her face was probably one Angela hadn't ever seen on Bren. It almost, oh it couldn't. Brennan didn't have a sappy look!

"Hi sweetie," Angela strode into Tempe's office, her 'give me details!' grin in place, "How are ya today?"

"Fine," Tempe glanced up and back down quickly, flashing Angela a nanosecond long smile, "You?"

"Fine," Angela plopped down in the chair on the other side of Tempe's desk, "So…" She trailed off, knowing Bren would ask,

"So what?"

Angela leapt at the chance, "What happened with you and Booth last night?"

"Why?" Bren asked cautiously. She remembered vividly the night before, including the short discussion on this very subject.

"Come on Bren, you almost floated in here today," Angela crossed then uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward in her seat, "I know something's up."

"Nothing's up," _Now,_ Tempe thought to herself, but last night…. The last thought made her chortle aloud.

"What _is_ so funny?!" Angela exclaimed, "Bren, tell me, tell me!"

"It's no-" Tempe tried to say, but Angela interrupted ferociously,

"Something is definitely going on with you! You practically glide in here, you have this dreamy little smile on your face, you were laughing for no reason, and you keep insisting that-" Angela stopped, her eyes growing huge, "Oh my God."

"What?" Tempe inquired impatiently.

"You're in love," Angela gasped. Tempe bit her lip to stop the stupid smile on her face from growing.

"You're in love," Angela repeated, her voice holding the slightest hint of amazement, "With Booth. _I knew it!_"

Tempe almost started to deny it, but there was no point any longer, "He said the words Ange," The smile had taken control of her face.

"He said what words?" Angela exclaimed, shaking with anticipation.

"He told me he loved me."

"When?" Angela demanded, grasping the armrests and actually physically bouncing in her chair, "When?!"

"Last night," Tempe said in a sigh, her thoughts drifting back.

"Did you say it back?" Her jovial exclamation caused Tempe to jolt from her obviously extremely pleasant memories. Angela had never seen Tempe like this. In all the time she had known Bren, she had never, ever, seen her like she was now. Uninhibited, happy, eyes twinkling, with a smile that swallowed her entire face.

The look on Tempe's face said it all, "Details girl!" Angela demanded fervently.

--

Zack covered his ears as yet another shrill shriek emitted from Doctor Brennan's office. Angela and Doctor Brennan had been holed up in there for the better part of an hour, the strangest noises drifting from the room. What on earth were they talking about? And squealing and shrieking about? Though it was Angela doing most, if not all, of the shrieking and squealing. Was it a good thing or bad? Instead of pondering that, having nothing he cared to do, he let his thoughts drift back to the night before and Vivian.

It had been a good night. Zack chuckled to himself as he remembered when Vivian had regaled him with stories from college. One in particular made him laugh, one involving a goat, a shovel, and a bottle of vodka. She was so much more _daring _than he was, so much more vibrant. He hadn't met anybody before quite like her. Again, Zack chuckled to himself, thinking of another tale, in which the dissection 'victims' for a biology class had been 'liberated'.

Dr. Goodman walked purposefully through the lab, but when he saw Zack, he turned back on his heel and peered perplexedly at him. Zack smiled big at Goodman, who still scared him slightly. Goodman nodded back, his expression still bizarre, then started off again. While contemplating Goodman's curious expression, Zack realized he was still covering his ears.

--

Vivian Booth walked cautiously into the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab. The place was cavernous, she thought, not sure what to focus on first. The security guard she had charmed into letting her in was still at her elbow. He directed her through the winding rows of cubicles.

Her excuse for her visit was to return Zack's cell phone that he had forgotten in her car the night before. She had applied a sticky note to the front of it, with her neatly printed phone number. She hadn't bothered trying to unlock the eight character key code Zack had set on his phone. He was a nervous little bugger, she thought, grinning to herself.

The security guard, Nelson, was trying to ask her out. She could tell. Sweaty palms, fiddling with his belt and badge, his face contorting into a look she always called to herself an 'oh please'. She tried to keep herself from giggling.

--

"Zack." A voice from the doorway called.

Zack looked up from his table, "Oh hi, Diana."

Diana Finch, with purple hair and an eyebrow ring, worked in the paleontology department of the Jeffersonian, "Whatcha up to?"

"Just cataloging these bones for Doctor Brennan," Zack replied quickly, keeping the next thoughts to himself, _and thinking about Viv_.

"Cool," She muttered absently, working her way around the table.

Zack wondered what she was doing there. They spoke to each other when they passed in the corridor, occasionally had even taken the shuttle (that smelled like unwashed feet) together, but nothing significant. But there was something in her eyes that Zack just couldn't place, and made him realize that he was in between Diana and a corner. He felt like a trapped rat.

"Look Zack, I'm not really good with words," Diana began, picking at invisible wrinkles in her shirt, "But there's something I really need you to know."

"Uh, okay," Zack said carefully, beginning to understand how lab rats in their little mazes felt.

"I can't say it, so I'm just gonna show you," Zack's eyes nearly budged out of his head when she swooped down on him, capturing his lips with hers. He tried to say something, but it only came out as 'mmph'. Her hands were smushing his cheeks. Zack didn't know what to think. He just wanted to get free, run away, and hide behind Doctor Brennan or Booth. Or Vivian. Diana was too forceful, she kept shoving him backwards, until he smacked into the wall. He jerked and cringed when she bit his lip.

Footsteps in the doorway saved Zack from being bitten again. Zack peered back Diana, "Vivian," He gasped, staring.

Vivian felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming mack truck. Her first reaction was to yell, flip out, order the freaky looking, purple haired bimbo away from Zack. Mentally, she was kicking herself. She had no claim to Zack, just a few little known facts, and a non-date. So why was she feeling like her territory had been violated?

"Umm, I uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, I just," Vivian wasn't sure whether she should step into the room, or turn tail and flee. Clenching her fist determinedly, she felt the reason she was there. A few moments, and she'd be gone, "I just wanted to a, to," She resisted the urge to shake herself.

"Yeah?" Zack had managed to wriggle away from Diana, and came toward her. She took an unconscious step back.

"Your phone," She thrust it out at him, tearing away the bright canary yellow post-it at the last second. He still saw it, still saw what was carefully written on it, _Viv's # 555-2679_. "You left it in the car last night."

"Oh," Zack curled his fingers around the phone, "Thanks." They stood, eyes locked, brown boring into blue, in an uncomfortable silence. They both spoke at once,

"Viv, it's no-"

"I've gotta go," Vivian forced a dim smile, Zack still getting that melting feeling, "It was _interesting_." She whirled around and strode away before Zack could utter another word.

"Bu-bye," Zack whispered to the empty door.

"Who was that?" Diana asked from the corner.

Zack hung his head, exhaled hard, not answering. He had blown it. Any chance of Vivian liking him had just flown out the proverbial window.

--

Nelson had abandoned her, a radio call pulling him back to his post. If she could just stay on the path he had taken her, she'd be fine. But this place was so huge. She remembered Seeley telling her he had needed a map for the first couple weeks he had begun coming here. She was _so_ going to get lost.

--

Hodgins was tweaked. His pride still smoldered from the night before. How could they all have gone out, and just not included him? They had even taken inept little Zack, who was incapable of holding up his end of a conversation with a woman, let alone understand what she said.

Brennan and Booth being there, he could understand. Wong Foos had been Booth's place in the beginning. Angela and her date could have been coincidence, a big, enormous maybe there. But _Zack?!_ Zack never went _anywhere_!

Ever since he had arrived that morning, Zack had been shooting him guilty looks. It had gotten to the point where if Zack looked over with that beaten puppy look again, Hodgins was going to grab the heaviest thing within range and beat him over the head with it.

He had had to escape. Now, he was standing in the corridor, watching the progress of a lost looking woman who was making her way through the hall. Hodgins thought she was pretty. A few wisps of brown hair had fallen from her ponytail and fluttered around her face. She reached up and brushed a few strands away from her big brown eyes. She wore straight-legged black slacks, and a pink button down shirt with three quarter sleeves and the cuffs rolled back once.

His foul mood seemed to lessen, as Hodgins decided to introduce himself. He put on a look that Angela called his 'flirty face', "Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"

The woman snorted, her big brown eyes narrowing, "That's original, did you come up with that all by yourself?"

That wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for, "No, I read it somewhere."

"Well, then you better try reading something else," She stormed away, muttering under her breath, "All men are imbeciles!"

--

Booth had arrived at the lab minutes ago, intending to pick up Brennan and go home. He had hoped to avoid his share in the third degree Angela was sure to have given Bones that morning. Instead of pestering him with questions, Ange had sent him Hodgins hunting, telling him that Hodgins had had a stick up his kiester all day about something. He found Hodgins in a secluded part of the lab; bent over a lab table, scratching notes onto a clipboard. He didn't appear to have noticed Booth's approach.

"I know you're there," Hodgins announced eerily, just as Booth was mentally congratulating himself on his stealth.

"That was kinda freaky," Booth leaned the small of his back against the rail just behind Hodgins's worktable, his arms and ankles crossed, "What, ya got eyes buried under all that hair?"

Something flickered in Hodgins's eyes, but they never strayed from what ever he was working on.

"Whatcha got there?" Booth asked, lowering a finger dangerously close to the specimen cups spread across the table. Hodgins slapped the offending finger away.

"I can't begin to explain something this complicated to an ignorant ape like you," Hodgins snapped, "Come back when you've finished evolving."

Hodgins' insults rolled right off Booth like water off a duck's back. Instead, a lopsided grin formed. He was on a mission, "Ooooo, did something hurt little Jackie's feelings?" He asked in a baby voice, little coming out 'wittle', something 'sometin', and feelings as 'feewees'.

"No," Hodgins spat out a little too quickly.

"Oookay fine," Booth pushed off the rail and started away, "I know where I'm not wanted." He stopped walking when he heard a hard crack. Hodgins had slammed his clipboard down on the desk. Hodgins stood; feet planted wide apart, arms braced on the tabletop.

"This is about last night, isn't it?" Booth asked discernedly, turning to rest a hip against the lab table between them, "You're pissed because no one asked you," Removing dice from his pocket, he tossed it into the air palm up, then snatched it from the air, palm down. He began to rattle it around within his closed fist, "I knew it."

Instead of continuing to deny it, "How could you ask Zack and not me?" Hodgins' back still faced Booth, "I thought we were friends man."

"Listen Hodgins, it's not a big deal. We didn't all get together and decide or anything."

"How am I supposed to know you're telling the truth?" Hodgins demanded, spinning around, "How do I know that you all haven't been secretly meeting up for months? Hell, I don't know, maybe there's some conspiracy against me man."

"There you go with those damn conspiracy theories again!" Booth threw his hands into the air, "You really think we all planned to alienate you? We're your friends you idiot!"

"Maybe," Hodgins kept insisting, but with less gusto now, "I can't wade through the murky synapses of your mind!"

Booth clenched his jaw, right now he wanted to smack Hodgins into submission, "You wanna know the truth?" He asked, his voice low and temper hair-trigger controlled. The teasing gleam had been replaced with frustration.

"Yes!" Hodgins dropped his fist onto the tabletop between them.

"The truth is," Booth inhaled deeply, "My baby sister was in town and I promised Angela she could meet her-" Hodgins cut him off, "What about Zack-"

Booth leveled him an incredulous stare, "Would you introduce _me_ to _your_ sister?"

"I don't have a sister," Hodgins replied almost before the words were completely out of Booth's mouth. Exasperated, Booth pressed on, "If you did?"

Hodgins blinked, clearly trying to discern where Booth was headed, "You're married."

Booth waved a hand in dismissal, "Beside the point."

"What _is _the _point_?!"

"The _point_ is," Booth tightened his fingers around the dice. For a smart guy, Hodgins was pretty thick, "That you hit on anything that moves."

"I do not," Hodgins began to protest, then, "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Zack spent the entire time trying to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth," Booth chuckled at the memory, "You, on the other hand, would have put the moves on her."

Hodgins nodded, clearly agreeing. He thought back to the angry girl in the corridor, "I think I saw her man. Is she hot?"

A scowl transformed Booth's face, "Hands off."

Hodgins' disposition improved greatly from then on.

--

**Author's Note:** Well, I know that this took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to post. Sorry! I've been trying to work through the block; it's starting to let up. I know that Brennan is probably a little OOC, but I figure if the guy you love tells you the same, it gives you a reason to be giddy. And Zack needed to get something. Hopefully it worked. Thanks bunches to all my reviewers! You're all astounding!


	9. Rules

**Title: **Just Friends?

**Summery**"You don't have to explain anything… we're friends."

**Disclaimer**Don't own them, dammit! What a season finale!

**Author's Notes**: Okay, I totally deserve any rotten vegetables angrily flung my way. I can't pardon myself for such an absence. In my defense, between major projects, tests, speeches, exam assignments, computer problems, Internet issues, a fruitless job search, and the great plot bunny escape of '06, I haven't gotten in much time for writing. And for that I apologize! Sorry, sorry, sorry! You guys have been great! Keep reading and reviewing, and I'll try to whip my butt into writing gear_. :D_

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Hodgins plopped down on a vacant stool and surveyed the crowd. His eyes fell on the woman from the hall. He almost didn't recognize her because she had changed into skinny boots, well fitting jeans, and a black Pink Floyd _The Wall_ t-shirt. He glanced over himself, brown boots, loose dark jeans, a white button-down shirt with blue stripes running through it, and a blue muscle shirt underneath. He_ thought_ he looked good. He _knew_ she looked _damn_ good. Running a hand through his curly mop of hair, he shifted a stool closer.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Vivian felt like banging her head off a wall. Preferably a thick one. After she had walked in on Zack and the freaky purple haired chick, she had gotten hit on not once, not twice, but three times. The creep in the hallway, Nelson the security guard, who had found her wandering the halls, trying to escape, and a dirty old man outside of the community center as she went in to her interview. Her interview had gone off-kilter. The actual social worker that was supposed to be meeting her hadn't shown up, and her interview had consisted of two old biddies staring at her through their enlarged glasses lenses. They hadn't a clue what they were asking her about, getting her to recite her credentials multiple times. One of them had had to adjust her hearing aid, causing a shrill squeal to emit from the device. The other, swathed in a pilly sweater that sported an appliquéd cat design which was peeling away, reminded Vivian of the crazy cat lady that used to live in the apartment down the hall from her in New York. A one-bedroom apartment, eight cats, one litter box.

Sighing heavily, she looked up to see that the very creep from the corridor was stool hopping his way over. Vivian groaned inwardly, as the creep (he was kind of cute) landed with two stools separating them.

"Let's hear it," She instructed, thinking to get it over with.

"Hear what?" He seemed confused. Well, that wasn't new, she thought.

"I know you've got another one of your hokey lines just burning to get out, so go ahead," Vivian cupped her hand around her chin, elbow resting on the counter. She twirled her glass, watching the liquid inside it swirl and froth.

"Oh, no," He chuckled warmly, "No hokey lines," He held up two fingers in a peace sign, "Scout's honor."

Lifting the eyebrows skyward, she asked, "Why do I get the feeling you were never a scout?"

"I dunno," He shrugged comically, "Maybe you're physic or somethin'."

Vivian couldn't help herself, she laughed, "What's your name Curly?"

"Jack," He paused, and then added as if an after thought, "Hodgins."

"Vivian," She mimicked, "Booth."

Hodgins looked liked a hooked fish, with mouth agape, "You're the sister."

------------------------------------------------------

Nervously, Zack drummed his fingers on the counter top. What should he do? What should he do? Making sure to keep his fingers away from the fragile pelvic bone, he pondered.

The evening before seemed almost like something he had conjured up. Girls like Vivian weren't that nice to guys like him. Back when he had been in school, the so-called popular crowd only spoke to him when they needed help with their homework, or assistance washing out a toilet. It was some kind of rule. And in the world Zack lived in, all he knew were rules. It was how a society was run, how people interacted each other. Anthropologically speaking, no society, no culture could survive and evolve without some kind of order, some kind of rules.

Diana. In all truth, the kiss ambush didn't follow the rules either. Diana was cute, sure, in a rebellious sort of way. He liked that she wasn't afraid to express herself. In a room full of her peers and colleagues, the intellectual types from the museum, she would always stand out. And it didn't bother her. Which was more than he could say for himself. He was constantly trying to fit, trying to be accepted, to be part of something outside the lab. It was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

_555-2679_. From his carefully catalogued photographic memory it came. Should he use it? Or just forget about it, and what significance a female exchanging her phone number with a male had? He couldn't just sit around and wait for something to come to him, could he? No, he had to go get it. That was another rule; things aren't just handed to you. You have to work, try, for them.

Turning the returned cell phone over in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the cool plastic, he decided. Taking a deep breath, and completely (or so he'd like to think) for anything that came, he began to dial.

-------------------------------------------

"I'm guessing you know Seeley," She deadpanned.

Hodgins took a minute to gather himself. He had seen the sister for sure now, and she was smokin', "Yeah, I know Booth."

Vivian glossed over her brother's substitution of his last name for his first. He had been doing that since junior high, "What do you do at the lab?" A sly grin budded, "Besides proposition lost and vulnerable patrons in the corridor?"

Hodgins had the grace to laugh at himself, "I'm an entomologist. Bugs, slime, and plants, that's my stuff."

"And dog poop," The bud had blossomed into a full-blown smile.

"You've heard of me," He chuckled.

She chuckled along with him, "Yeah, I've heard stories about all of you. Although, that still didn't prepare me for meeting any of you," She quickly swallowed her mouthful of her drink, "Like take Angela," She began to relate to him her first encounter with Angela Montenegro.

------------------------------------

Angela tapped another set of keys. She had been putting off these pictures long enough. If she didn't finish them soon, the new exhibit's opening would have to be postponed. And Goodman would not be happy about that. Glancing at the clock that hung over the door, she saw it was getting late. She raked her hair back and began typing again. She had been working at them for the past hour, but she hadn't seemed to be putting a dent in them.

She couldn't believe she was at the lab this late. She couldn't believe she was at the lab this late, alone. She was doing the exact thing she had always chastised Bren about. Spending hours of after hours' time on something that could be finished the next day, during business hours. Why was it that Bren was at home, doing unmentionable things with her gorgeous FBI agent husband, and Angela, the lab's resident 'party girl' was holed up in her office, working until all hours of the night? Maybe she should get downright drunk and marry a hot agent of her own.

"Ms. Montenegro, burning the midnight oil I see," Dr. Goodman stepped into the shadowed room, his face illuminated by a low burning floor lamp in the corner, while hers had taken a blue-white tinge from her computer screen.

"Yes," Angela tried to cover a yawn, "Just finishing up some images for the Ice Age exhibit."

Dr. Goodman took in her tired eyes and barely suppressed yawns, "Go home Ms. Montenegro, get some sleep. We nearly have to pry Dr. Brennan out of here with a crowbar, must you do the same?"

Angela smiled, clicking the mouse a few times to save her work, "What about you? How come you're not at home?"

Sighing, Dr. Goodman lowered himself to the sofa, the fabric crinkling beneath him, "My wife's parents are visiting from Arkansas," He grumbled, arranging the lapels of his suit coat.

Angela held up a hand, palm forward, "No need to explain. I understand," Gathering up her things, she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

Dr. Goodman pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression showed him imagining all sorts of in-law horrors.

Finally grasping metal, Angela pulled her keys from her purse, "See you tomorrow," She called on her way out, a grin on her face and in her voice.

"Tomorrow," He replied in a gravelly voice.

---------------------------------

"She asked you if you thought Booth was hot?" Hodgins hooted, imagining Angela's embarrassment on discovering to whom her question was directed.

"Well, I think he's handsome, sure. But hot? It's not in me to say," Vivian laughed along with him. Interrupting her next sentence, her cell rang, "Sorry," Rummaging quickly through her purse, she grabbed the phone and thumbed the 'talk' button, without bothering to check the caller id, "Hello?"

"Hi, um, yeah, Viv?" The voice on the line was familiar, in a nervous sort of way. But she couldn't quite put her finger on who, "It's me, well, me, I mean, I am. It's Zack."

"Zack?" She hadn't expected to hear from him. Shouldn't he still be tongue wrestling with the purple haired woman? Uneasily, she began to twirl the ends of her hair around her fingers, "How did you get my number?"

Hodgins watched Vivian carefully. Zack? Was it his little nerd buddy Zack? Why would Zack be calling Viv? And why was Vivian nervous? How exactly had their little date gone anyway?

"I have a photographic memory," Zack said as if it explained everything.

"Uh-huh," Vivian replied in a tone that said it didn't. She skillfully avoided Hodgins' look, dipping her head, inspecting her knees.

"I saw the sticky note when you returned my phone," Zack explained, and then began babbling about how quickly something could be inserted into his long-term memory.

She had to interrupt his babbling, "Zack? Zack, you're rambling!"

Zack breathed deep, trying to build up his courage, though it was sorely lacking. He wanted to tell Viv that there was nothing to the kiss in his room; in fact, it had been more of an attack. But rejection was never something that he took well, what if she didn't care? What if she brushed him off, or yelled and told him not to call again? He never got the girls, "I wanted to tell you, about back at the museum, it wasn't-"

She cut him off, "Zack, you don't have to explain anything."

"I don't?" That was something he hadn't expected. He had expected a very uncomfortable clarification, then maybe (if he was very lucky) a conversation. He didn't care what about; he just wanted to talk to her.

"No, you don't," Vivian couldn't believe she was saying this. A few hours ago, hadn't she wanted to turn the purple haired girl into a human cannonball? What had changed now? She glanced at Hodgins, who smiled at her. He made her laugh, had made her totally forget the drama of her flopped interview and the Zack/Purple sighting, "We're friends Zack, there's nothing for you to explain. Although, I would've liked a sign or something on the door, so I didn't have to see her check your tonsils with her tongue."

There, she thought. That should let him off the hook, should relieve any misguided guilt he was harboring. The joke should even lighten the seriousness hanging over the situation. Even if it didn't make her feel any better.

He was more confused now, if that were even possible. This was not what he had expected, not at all. This wasn't what he wanted to hear either. But what could he say? "Oh, okay. Friends, yeah."

"Friends," She could swear she heard some kind of disappointment in his voice, or was she hearing only what she wanted to?

"Well, okay then," Zack felt like he had been stomped on, like a tiny cockroach on the sidewalk, "I've gotta go. Bye."

"Bye," Why did she feel like she had just kicked a puppy? Why did she feel like someone had kicked _her_?

He hung up abruptly, leaving her to listen to the dial tone. She jabbed the 'end' button, and deposited the phone in her purse.

"Bad call?" Hodgins asked curiously, his index finger circling the rim of his glass.

---------------------------------

"What did you say to Jack?" Tempe asked inquisitively. The two were sprawled together on the sofa, Tempe's head in Booth's lap, his fingers brushing absentmindedly through her hair.

"Told him to get his head out of his ass," Booth replied bluntly, "That he hits on everything in a skirt."

"How receptive was he?" She turned over so she was looking up at him. He grinned; clearly the conversation had gone well.

"Hodgins and Angela must have had the same English teacher. He wanted to know if Viv was hot," He couldn't help himself; he snickered, remembering her actions the night before.

She rolled her eyes, swatted playfully at the hand stroking over the bare skin of her hip, "It was a natural assumption that people would use the authentic meaning of a word."

"I thought Angela and I would've taught you something by now," He teased, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. Her tongue flicked against it.

"There's a few things you could teach me," She curled her fingers over his belt, smiling impishly.

-----------------------------------------

"Zack and Diane!" Hodgins had discerned the identity of the freaky purple haired chick with an eyebrow ring and her tongue down Zack's throat, "Shit," He grinned mischievously.

"Glad you're enjoying it," Vivian mumbled, clearly not enjoying having to describe the sighting to him. She couldn't believe how incredibly stupid of her it was to just let so much slip on a first meeting. She had never done that before, and promised herself she wouldn't do it again. Though it seemed the promise came too late, as she seemed to be slipping again. Seeley would rue the day he introduced her to his co-workers.

"No, it's just gonna give me something to hold over Zack's head. It should be all over the lab by tomorrow, but a first hand account," He laughed manically, and rubbed his hands together in a mockery of classic villainy, "Tomorrow's gonna be fun."

Vivian almost felt bad for given Jack fodder to taunt Zack with. Almost.

-------------------------------------

"Seeley? Are you awake?" Tempe propped herself up on her elbow, an ear against the palm of her hand.

"No," He mumbled, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

"You don't talk in your sleep," She pointed out, her logical manner shining through even in his sleepy state.

"What is it Bones?" He flopped around onto his back, peering up at her with hooded eyes.

No hedging, she'd decided. She had thought long and hard about this, had mapped out a logical and rational way to broach the subject. But, as she tried, her entire speech flew from her, forcing her to wing it.

"Where do you see us going?" She blurted out. So much for logical and rational, Tempe thought.

"What?" His eyes popped open, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, where do you see us going from here?" She thought for a moment, "I know that you don't want a divorce, and I don't want a divorce, but still, how do we proceed?"

The use of 'proceed' in a highly emotional discussion almost made him laugh. Only her blatant need for reassurance held it back. Shaking his head to clear it, he asked, "Where did this come from?"

Tempe raked her tongue with her teeth, "I need procedures, I need a set goal and definitions. Otherwise, I get lost," She shook off the creeping feeling of aloneness, she wasn't alone, not anymore, "When things fall apart, I get lost."

Booth shifted himself over so he too was propped up on his elbow, hand against his cheek. The other he reached over to touch Tempe, rubbing soothing circles on her side, "You think we're gonna fall apart?" He could tell she was thinking about the discovery of her parents' secrets, that they had lived after they'd left her. That her father was _still _alive. It had shaken her to her visceral core. It jarred him somewhat that she was begging for him to soothe her worries. Bones was always very independent, sometimes irritatingly so. She had always been. So when the time came that she let that guard down, showed him her insecurities, he wasn't entirely prepared. He _was_ ready though, to be _the_ person she showed those insecurities to.

"I don't," She was having trouble forming the words, "It's just out of my element when nothing is definite, nothing is for sure," Covering up her emotional outpour, she teased with an awkward smile, "And it's all your fault."

He knew she didn't mean it, and glossed over her jab. He wished that he could pull the words out of the sky to promise her that nothing would ever happen, but he couldn't. Nothing was ever certain, in life or in love, "I can't promise that nothing will ever happen Bones. I want to. But, I can't. What I can promise you is I'm not going anywhere. Not if I can help it."

Their faces were so close now, the tips of their noses touched. She knew he couldn't promise that nothing would ever change, that was inevitable, but it did pacify something inside her to hear that he wasn't going anywhere. People she cared about had the bad habit of disappearing, "I'm not going anywhere either," She vowed, leaning in the last inch to nuzzle her nose against his.

"Where do I see us going from here?" Booth repeated, "I see us working together, chasing the scum of the earth. I see us coming home and being together. I see us fighting just as much, if not more than we do now. I see us playing with our kids, and watching them grow. I see me," He paused, moving his hand up to stroke her cheek, "Loving you with all that I have, until there's nothing of me left."

Tempe had never been one to sigh at the romantic parts of the odd movie she saw or at the snippets of conversations she'd heard, but at his words, she all but melted, "Oh Seeley," The English language failed her right then. She couldn't think of words good enough to match his. Instead came a sigh of, "Oh Seeley, me too."

"Even the kids part?" He teased lightly. If he had read her correctly, over past months, she had had a change of heart about kids. This change of heart and inclination towards it had to do with the attachment she had forged with Parker. Something maternal had come out in Bones, even going so far as to nearly accost a woman whose son accidentally stepped on Parker's hand. She made a point of asking about him, and had been present the last few times he'd Parker for the weekend. She'd even baby-sat when he had been called back to the office. His boy had wrecked havoc, getting in a fight with Zack about which dinosaurs were better, stomping on Hodgins' prized beetle, a terrified look on his face, sweet talking Angela with preschooler babble, and even charming his way around Dr. Goodman.

"I always thought that I didn't want kids because I wouldn't chance putting a child through what I was," Tempe could tell he was reading her like a book. While with others, she'd quickly slam the cover closed, it didn't irk her in the least with him, "But that wasn't it. Or, at least, it wasn't all of it."

"What was it?"

She gazed into his eyes, finding there only care and interest, "It was that I couldn't imagine myself with someone that I would want to take that chance with."

"And you will with me?" Booth practically bit his tongue in anticipation of her response. He wouldn't let himself think that he should have kept his mouth shut, but he did seem to have a unique talent for talking himself into (and out of, as need be) a hole.

"I will with you," Tempe murmured softly. Children hadn't been part of her master plan once upon a time, but after spending time with Parker, and seeing the genuine love and care between father and son, slowly, her mind began to change. Children might not be such an inconvenience; they might be worth the risk. She could see that they were for Booth, and they had begun to be for her.

Booth made a contented sound as he moved his face closer to hers, kissing her soundly. He manipulated her lips with his, before breaking his lips from hers, kissing her closed eyelids, before beginning to work his way down her neck, "How'bout starting on that now?" He muttered, rolling them both so she was on her back and he leaned over her. His lips never left her skin. Her breath sharply sucked through her lungs as his mouth settled at the V of her collarbone, his tongue and lips working their magic.

"Mmmm," Her head lolled back against the pillows, her hands bunched in his hair as his lips continued their downward journey. There was something about his touch, about the mere pass of his hands or lips over her skin that ignited such a thrill through her body. She had never felt like this with anyone else.

He loved the way she responded to him. Loved the way she clutched him. Loved the way she molded her body to his. It had started so discretely, almost without his notice, until it was blaring him in the face, kicking him in the ass and squeezing his heart. _He loved her. _

---------------------------------------------

Hodgins scrubbed a hand over his face. On departing from the bar, he had looked down at Vivian, the moon and stars mingling with the streetlights had given her a kind of magical appearance. A tiny smile sprouted in her eyes, spreading out over her whole face. On an impulse, he reached out and tucked a wayward lock of hazelnut hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed across her cheek, her skin so smooth and soft. Almost as if in slow motion, he bent, bringing his lips to hers. And she responded, pushing herself up on her tiptoes, keeping her balance by holding tightly to the lapels of his coat. A hand cupping the back of her head, he angled her head, molding his mouth to hers, savoring it the way one would the bouquet of an exquisite wine. She sighed, pushing upward, touching his tongue with hers, moving in and pulling away as she liked. He moaned in the back of his throat, moving his front against hers, her back against the pole of a street lamp. Damn, but she was good at this.

The kiss had ended with him out of breath, and her smiling sultrily. Now, he was standing in his boxers in his kitchen, wondering what the hell had possessed him. He had kissed a woman he had just met. He had kissed Vivian. He had kissed Booth's sister. A wave of alarm washed over him at his last realization. _He had kissed Booth's sister._

What the hell was he going to do? What if Booth found out? What if Vivian hadn't been as receptive as he thought? He had only known her for a few hours! She had definitely been receptive to him, had been more than receptive, and had returned the kiss with the same fervor he had given it. But the first couple of what ifs were met with a panicked realization; Booth was going to kill him if he found out.

Funny, he thought, he didn't regret it for a second. He flipped a folded piece of paper between his index and middle fingers, grinning foolishly to himself.

-----------------------------------------

Vivian folded her hands behind her head, tucking them under her pillow. Right now, her bed was at a hotel, soon she'd have to find a place of her own. She couldn't afford to stay much longer.

She sighed, running her tongue over her lips. That hadn't been at all unexpected. In fact, it had been anticipated. Jack was a good kisser. Very good. It wasn't something she normally did, kissing someone she had just met. She seemed to be going against what she normally did and didn't do lately. Talking way too much to one guy, going so far as to give him her phone number. Then, kissing another guy, again giving away her phone number. Both guys worked with Seeley. He was _so_ going to regret introducing her to his colleagues. She only hopped her extremely over-protective older brother didn't decide to use Jack for target practice.

Funny, she didn't regret it for a second.

------------------------------------------

**Author's Notes:** Okay, I know this took nearly a millennium to post, but the plot bunnies have escaped again. I have to go chase after those crazy rabbits, but any help would be appreciated!

The plot has thickened! Do Hodgins and Viv get together? Or does Zack get the girl? Will the big brother use Hodgins for target practice? What's in store B'n'B? Does Goodman ever go home? Will Angela take over Brennan's place as the overtime queen? What happens to Diana? And Toad?


	10. Mommy Bones

**Title: **Mommy Bones

**Summery: **Vivian and Diana reach an understanding, Hodgins relieves his conscience, Zack gets a roommate, Angela celebrates and realizes, Booth and Bones parent.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em! You can't prove anything!

**Author's Notes: **New chapter! Yeah! I received a few urging reviews, and having purchased a net to assist in my capturing of those MIA bunnies, I'm back in business. Hopefully. I need a better plot bunny cage.

----------------------------------

It had been three days. Three days since her crummy interview. Three days since she had been at the Jeffersonian. Three days since she'd been at Wong Foos. Three days since she had kissed Hodgins. Three days since she had seen Zack, taking swabs with his tongue. Three days since she had told him they were just friends.

But she had spoken to Diana. She had stopped at a large, brightly lit Starbucks chain store, and confused the boy behind the counter by asking for a simple coffee with cream and a little sugar.

"That's it?" He asked, pouring the steaming brew.

"That's it," She replied, accepting the paper cup and handing him the money. He nodded, and turned away to put her order through the register. Vivian tapped the toe of her shoe on the carpeted floor in time to the soft rock song crooning from a radio in one of the room's corners. She turned to grab a stir stick just in time to hear another patron's long and involved order.

It had been the quick blur of purple that had drawn her to take another look. There she spotted the purple haired, eyebrow ringed, swapping spit with _her_ Zack, Diana. Trying to be inconspicuous, and not to be noticed, she accepted her change from the cashier, and tried to slip away. But she didn't make a clean getaway.

"Excuse me!" She heard someone call behind her. She kept going, hoping it wasn't directed at her. Outside the shop, the slap of sneakers on the sidewalk brought Diana up parallel beside her, "Excuse me, don't I know you?"

Vivian exhaled hard, covering her annoyance by a taking a long pull from her insulated paper cup, "Yeah, I think so," She replied, swallowing. She would like nothing more than to escape without engaging the other woman (pun unintended) in conversation, but she also wanted to know what drew Zack to her, or vise versa. That part made her stay put and answer in the affirmative.

"I thought you looked familiar," Diana smiled, wiping a bit of foam from her upper lip, "You were the woman from the museum, the one that sorta, um, walked in," Her face turned a bright red shade, as she ducked and hide her embarrassment behind her cup.

Vivian nodded, "That was me," Stifling another sigh, she wouldn't let herself hide behind her own cup, "Sorry about that."

Diana waved a hand of indifference, "Oh, it doesn't matter," Something in her face changed, and she looked nerve ridden again, "I don't mean to pry, but there wasn't, like, anything between you and Zack? Because I totally would _not _want to overstep-"

Vivian interrupted, shaking her head wildly, "No, no, Zack and I are just friends," She reassured. _There I go again,_ she thought, _telling more lies. My nose is gonna start to sprout._

"Really?" Diana looked relieved, "Because I would never want to, you know, get in the way."

"Really, we just met pretty recently," Vivian mentally kicked herself for not being able to keep her mouth shut, but when she grew nervous, she seemed to ramble, "I'm new in town. And my brother knows Zack from work, so that's how I met him."

"Oh, cool," Vivian had begun walking again, and Diana fell into step beside her, "Who's your brother? Maybe I know him."

"Maybe," Vivian flipped her hair back over her shoulder, keeping it out of her drink.

"Ooo, let me guess," Diana pulled a few strands of her own hair from the foamy concoction she was drinking, "He works with Doctor Brennan and her team right? Jack Hodgins?"

"No!" Vivian firmly replied. She was enjoying the game, "He's not from the lab, but he spends a lot of time there. "

Diana inspected her companion's face closely, she could see a resemblance, but she couldn't tell who, "Um, hmmm, works with Zack, but isn't Hodgins. Not from the lab, but spends a lot of time there," She was drawing a blank.

Vivian doled out other clues; "He always wears suits, and a belt buckle with a eagle on it. He flashes a badge around, Bren goes out with him to look for suspects."

Recognition flashed in Diana's eyes, "No way! Booth!" She stopped on the sidewalk, and again peered closely at Viv's face, "Booth is your brother?" After a moment of intense scrutiny, she nodded, "Yup, I can see the resemblance."

"You can?" Vivian drained the last few sips from her cup, and then tossed it into a nearby trashcan, "You've got foam on your nose."

Diana scrunched her nose and glanced at herself in a storefront window. Sure enough, a glob of foam clung to the tip of her nose. She tried to wipe it away with her hand, only succeeding in spreading it over her nose, Vivian giggling behind her. Diana crossed her eyes at Vivian in the window, and scrubbed the foam away with the edge of her sleeve. Satisfied that it was gone, she turned and chucked the now empty cup in the garbage.

They continued to walk along the sidewalk, neither of them really having a destination in mind. Vivian was surprised to discover how much she enjoyed Diana's company. As they wandered, there were little things she learned that made her like Diana more than at first she wanted to. Diana liked to speak her mind, and it didn't bother her when people didn't like it. She had a soft side too, that had them making faces at the puppies in the window of a pet store and flattening their fingers on the glass. At one point in the stroll, Diana glanced down at Vivian's feet and exclaimed, "Are those Chucks?"

Vivian looked down at her feet, shod in pink high toped Chuck Taylors, the toes scuffed and the laces grungy, "Yeah, I've had'em for years."

"I lived in a pair of those when I was in high school," Diana grinned, "Purple ones."

--------------------------

"Okay little man, go park your gear in your room," Booth ordered, and the towheaded four-year-old flew from the room, his backpack draped over his arm. Booth dropped onto the couch, preparing for the reentrance of his son, rehearsing how he was going to explain the situation in a way a four-year-old would understand. It would be difficult. Bones had gone to work that morning, promising she'd be home early. He wasn't sure how that would go. She could get caught up in her work and forget.

"Daddy, will you read me and Mr. Whiskers a 'tory?" Parker clambered up onto the sofa beside his father, clutching a stuffed cat that'd seen better days and a Doctor Seuss book

"Sure ace," Booth took the book from his son, reading the title to himself. _Horton Hears A Who. _He grinned, he had given Parker this one, "But first, Daddy's gotta tell you something okay? I need you to listen real close, 'cause it's important that you understand."

Big eyes were transfixed on his face, and the toddler solemnly nodded, " 'Kay Daddy."

---------------------------

That afternoon, Tempe had been focused on keeping her promise to Booth. She had delegated more work than usual, on the premise that her staff needed the practice, even avoided checking her email, sure she would be drawn into some student's plea for her opinion, or a push from her editor. Zack had called her out to inspect a body brought in from the Civil War, and she had shocked all on lookers by telling him, "I just want to finish up the preliminary tonight and go home."

Zack's jaw had dropped open, and required assistance in closing it. Never had his suggestion of delving straight into work been met with a 'tomorrow' response. It had always been a 'get right on it, and hurry.'

Angela, standing behind Tempe, where she wouldn't be seen, pumped triumphant arms in the air, an all-encompassing smile on her face. This was something she had been waiting for. To hear Bren say that work could wait until tomorrow was a milestone in her mission. She could barely stave off the urge to indulge in the happy dance. The strangest thought came to her; she couldn't wait to tell Hodgins. She shook her head, confused by the sudden urge to seek out the bug man and relate the previously witnessed experience.

------------------------------

"I have two mommies now?" Parker asked cautiously.

Booth nodded reluctantly, "Sort of. There's your mommy, and then there's Bones," Calling Bones Bones was such a standard, and they hadn't decided on what Parker should call her, they hadn't thought of it. At least he hadn't. And if she had, Bones hadn't mentioned it.

The child seemed to consider it, "But she'll play with me, and come to the park, and read with me, right?" Clearly he was trying to figure out his situation. He held Mr. Whiskers close, little hands closed over the cat's paws.

"That's right Parks," Booth ruffled his son's blonde hair, "But she's going to live here with Daddy."

"How come I can't live wit you?" The little boy's eyes were so earnest; it tore Booth's heart in two. All he wanted to do was promise his son that he could live with him and Bones forever, but he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair, to him or to Parker.

"Because ace," Booth settled him tight against his side, an arm anchoring him there, "Your mommy wants you to live with her, she wants to see you too. She loves you so much."

"Don't you?" As Parker asked, Booth nearly crumbled. His responses were on autopilot,

"Of course I do," Booth hugged the boy tight, squeezing him intermittently, "I love you more than the stars in the sky. And so does your mommy. And we both want you to live with us, but we have to share you."

"Me too Daddy," The boy locked small arms around his father's neck, clutching as hard as he could, "More dan the 'tars."

----------------------------

"Hey Curly."

Vivian perched on the stool beside his, her jacket spread across her lap, fingers nervously flicking the tag at the collar.

"Hey," Hodgins replied, just as nervously, "What's up?" They were both awkward. Hodgins was trying to think of a delicate way to broach the subject of the kiss, but so far, could think of nothing.

Vivian shrugged one shoulder, "I got the job," She said offhandedly. She had received the phone call not two hours before. After thanking the woman on the line, and getting a few particulars, she had hung up, practically bouncing around her hotel room. She'd tossed the phone onto bed, unable to hold in her excitement. Her hands clenched and her stomach did the same. Flopping onto the bed, she'd buried her face in a pillow and let the pent up enthusiasm flow. Her next move had been a expeditious call to Seeley. Parker had answered the phone, announcing Daddy was making him dinner. After a few moments of babbling, and a promise to play with him in the park within the next few days, he'd handed off the phone to Daddy, who'd been almost as happy as she was. They'd promised to celebrate the next day, meeting at the park (thus fulfilling her promise to Parker). His last words had been, "I'm so proud of you kiddo."

They had left her with a bit of an empty feeling, despite all the energy. That was such a dad thing to say. But he wasn't hers, and neither would her father ever offer such a compliment.

"That's great!" Hodgins grinned big, his voice pulling her back, "That's awesome!"

"Yeah," Vivian grew a smile of her own, "I just got the call this afternoon."

They both hedged around the issue that was hanging over them, talking about safe subjects; Viv moving to DC permanently, how many kids used the center, how much work it would be, what she would be doing exactly. In a lull in the conversation, unable to restrain herself, Vivian blurted out,

"So, are we cool?" She couldn't stand to sit and make pleasant conversation about nothing anymore, the both of them acting as if nothing was wrong. It was churning inside of her, wondering how he had reacted to it, what he was thinking. She had had the past few days to organize her thoughts, and was praying she didn't sound like an idiot when they came out.

"Yeah," Hodgins nodded, "That kiss, I mean," He stopped, not sure how to say it. It had been an impulse kiss, something he had done on the spur of the moment. He didn't regret it, but it didn't invoke the kind of feeling that had him burning to do it again.

"It was hot, but," Vivian exhaled hard, "I didn't-"

"No, me neither," Hodgins jumped to agree.

"So, we're good?" Vivian offered half a grin, to which Hodgins supplied the other half,

"We're good," They both breathed a sigh of relief.

---------------------------

Temperance arrived home to the smell of something simmering on the stove, the sound of the joyous shouts of a child. She dumped her bag on the floor, remembering to hang her coat in the closet, and headed towards the sounds and smells. She arrived in the kitchen, to find Booth stirring something in a pot, Parker poised on a chair, assisting.

"Hey boys," She called, causing Booth to glance up, and Parker to spin on his chair. She crossed the room to them, and pecked Booth's cheek.

"Mommy Bones!" Parker screeched, reaching out grubby hands to her, "Daddy's makin' pasgetti," He announced, a streak of tomato on his cheek indicating he'd all ready sampled it.

"Is he now?" Unconsciously, she grabbed a napkin from the holder on the microwave and wiped the little boy's face.

Her eyes connected with Booth's over the child's head. Setting the spoon he was using to stir the sauce on the counter, he sent Parker off to wash his hands for dinner. Then he'd reached for Tempe.

He pulled her in for a deep, thorough kiss, then, lifting his head, he asked as if he hadn't just made her knees buckle, "How was work?"

"Fine," She looped her arms around his neck, "We got in a new skeleton from the Civil War that I'm supposed to identify. I told Zack we'd clean the bones tomorrow and see if there were any abnormal striations or ligatures on the bones."

Booth nodded, "Sounds fun," He joked, tickling her. Tempe wiggled in his arms to evade his fingers, but only succeeded in tightening herself against him. Curious, she asked,

"Was it your idea?"

"My idea to what? I wasn't even at work today, how could I tell Zack what to look for on the bones?"

"No, not that," Her fingers began tapping lightly on the back of his neck, "For Parker to call me that."

"What? Mommy Bones?" He chuckled as the words past his lips, "No, but you have to admit, it is quite catchy. Inventive too," The chuckle expanded as she glared at him.

"You don't think it'll confuse him?" Even though there was no way she wanted to cause the anger of and perhaps another visit from Rebecca Hardgraves, her reasons for asking weren't entirely selfish, "Anthropologically speaking, in history, most children only had one mother."

"True," He acknowledged her reservations with a dip of his head, "But now it's pretty common for a kid to have more than two parents," She still looked doubtful, and he rushed to reassure her, "He's not confused, I explained that now he has two mommies. He seemed cool with it," Leaning in so he could feel her breath on his face, he added, "Besides the Bones part is definitely a distinguishing factor."

Comments like that gave her two ideas for reaction. Kick him or kiss him. She chose the latter.

Moments later, a still sudsy four-year-old arrived in the doorway, and proclaimed, "Ewww!"

-----------------------------

"So, now all I have to do is find a place to live," Vivian said, mentally going over her finances, "I can't afford to stay at the hotel any longer." She and Jack still occupied the same stools, but now Zack had joined them.

Hodgins grinned, "Y'know, I'd letcha stay at my place, but I think Booth would hunt me down and hang my head over the mantle."

"I know," Vivian giggled, picturing Hodgins situated between two deer heads over a roaring fire, "He's a bit-"

"Overprotective?" Zack suggested, from his seat on the other side of Viv.

"That's one word for it," Hodgins snorted, catching the elbow aiming for his ribs before it made contact.

"Why don't you stay with Booth and Doctor Brennan?" Zack inquired innocently, "At least until you find a place of your own?"

Viv shook her head, "I wouldn't want to intrude on them playing happy family. Besides, they need the time _alone_," She exaggerated and drew the word _alone _out as far as she could.

Zack looked confused for a few minutes, before the light bulb went off, "Ohhh… You think that they're going-" He was cut off by Vivian's hand clamping over his mouth.

"Don't you finish that sentence!" She hissed, shuddering, "I don't wanna think about it! That's like thinking about your parents," She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence, "Yuh."

Chuckling, Hodgins had a light bulb of his own. "Hey!"

"Hey what?" Zack asked glad for the subject change. He didn't want to think about his parents either. Ew. Something should just be left _alone_.

Hodgins squeezed Vivian's arm where it lay on the counter, "Why don't you stay with Zack? His place is too big for just him. You could use a roommate, right Zack?" He swiveled on the stool, peering around Viv to see Zack's reaction.

Zack first, immediate response was _YES! _And after further deliberations, his response was still _YES! _Why not? He had the room, two extra bedrooms, and an extra bathroom. And he liked Vivian- a lot. They could- before his thoughts ran away with him, Zack began nodding vigorously,

"Yeah sure," He tried hard to contain his grin, "You should stay with me."

"You're sure?" Vivian asked tentatively. She didn't want him to retract his offer, but she did want them both to be sure of what they were doing. Since she had no idea, she was hoping Zack might have an inkling.

Again, Zack's immediate answer was _YES!_ "Yes, of course I'm sure."

"Come on Viv," Hodgins squeezed her hand again, "If you guys are friends, why should it be a problem?"

_He was goading her into this! _Viv narrowed her eyes at Hodgins, and then turned to look at Zack. He looked so hopeful and eager to please. The look on his face swayed her.

"Okay, yeah," Vivian agreed, jumping off her stool, and throwing her arms around Zack's neck, "Thank-you Zack!"

Zack was stunned. People, women, didn't abruptly hug him. It took him by surprise, to say the least. The smile by itself had made his limbs go weak again. He was glad he was sitting down. Regaining control of his watery arms, he wrapped them around Viv, preventing her from detaching herself from him. He wasn't able to suppress his grin this time.

Over Zack's shoulder, Vivian peered at Hodgins, before turning her face into Zack's neck. She was entirely too comfortable in this position.

Hodgins felt like clapping his hands together and announcing, "Phase one is complete!" But he kept quiet; He would have to tell Angela of his matchmaking prowess. She would be so proud, he thought excitedly.

----------------------------

Tempe was sprawled lengthwise across their bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Her back had begun to ache midway through the day and had progressed throughout.

Two strong hands slid up her back, exerting a gentle pressure. Warm puffs of air tickled her neck as he whispered into her ear, "Guess who?"

Giving into a pleasant shiver, she replied teasingly, "I don't know. Who?"

"How's about I show you," He purred. Bringing his hands to her hips, he edged the hem of her shirt up with his thumbs. He pressed a kiss to the small of her back, nibbling and ticking his way up the slope of her spine. He inched the hem up farther, "Know who it is yet?"

Sighing pleasurably, she muttered, "Not yet. I think I need more evidence." She flipped over to lay on her back, her hands finding his sides, smoothing over them.

"How's this for evidence?" He asked, lowering himself on braced forearms. She raised her head, their lips meeting urgently. When she pressed for more, he pulled back, leisurely pecking at the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, and chin. He lifted his head from hers, cast her a blood-pumping grin, then began to dust feather-light kisses from the sensitive spot behind one ear down her neck.

She thrust her hands into his hair, her fingers stroking through it. The things he did to her, she thought contentedly. She trailed her nails down his neck, over his shoulders and back, imprinting crescent shapes in the smooth cotton of his undershirt. There was a slight slip in the continuous pressure of his mouth on her collarbone as her fingers slipped beneath his waistband. She smiled, liking what she could do to him.

"I think I know," She murmured huskily, "But just one more thing will make me sure."

"Yeah?" He brought his head up, making her absurdly miss the feel of his mouth. He raised a devious eyebrow, "What?"

In response, she clamped her hand around the back of his head and swooped her lips hard on his, manipulating his mouth, kissing until they were both breathless.

"I'm sure," She huffed, "But we have to hurry, there's only a few minutes until my husband gets back."

"Funny Bones," Booth splayed the fingers of one hand over her stomach, relishing the feel of her silky skin.

"Shut up and kiss me," She ordered briskly.

"See, bossy," He obeyed promptly, using one arm to keep his weight from crushing her. The other hand roamed free. Tempe slipped her hands beneath his undershirt, rubbing the hard planes of his belly, then looped both arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips dueled, both vying for dominance. Tempe found she was once again giving in to the overpowering sense of being absent from thought and could only feel, feel herself soaring and sinking at the same time. The blood vessels in Booth's head pounded as he lost himself in her.

"Daddy?" A little voice called from the doorway, "Daddy?"

Both were jerked out of their mutually created fog. Sighing heavily, and rolling off to the side of the bed, Booth said, "Yeah Parks?"

"Daddy," A little blonde head peaked over the side of the bed, "I had a bad dream," He clutched a worn and ragged teddy bear in his arms, "Can I sleep wit you?"

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in your own bed?" Booth asked, lifting Parker up to sit in his lap. Parker buried his face in Booth's chest,

"Daddy, I wanna sleep wit you. You can 'care away the monsters. Please!" As Parker huddled closer, Booth looked over his son's head at Tempe, a questioning look on his face. She nodded, defeated.

"Okay buddy," Booth tipped Parker's head up to look into his little face, "But just this once. Okay?"

A bright smile now in place of the frown, Parker threw his little arms around his father, "Okay Daddy."

An apologetic look passed between the adults.


	11. Revisited

**Title: **Revisited

**Summery: **Visiting hours begin again. Booth makes a confession; Bones can't sleep alone anymore. Vivian moves in, and Zack's musical preference comes into question.

**Disclaimer: **Though I am no longer _completely _broke, I still do not own BONES.

**Author's Notes: **Man, I've barely had any time to sit down and write! With work and school starting soon, I'm trying to carve out some time for this story, and the others I've been neglecting. And those damned escapee rabbits, are still on the lamb. (My apologizes for the mixed animal metaphor.)

--------------------------

It was moving day. Just a day after initial plans had been made, in the early morning, Vivian drug her few earthly possessions from the rattletrap (both Zack and Seeley had dubbed the car as such) and began to settle into the empty bedroom in Zack illustrious garage apartment.

At first showing, Vivian had trouble containing her astonishment, "Wow, Zack, this place is huge. How many cars are in his garage?"

"Nine," Zack replied matter-of-factly, "I counted once."

Vivian chuckled, not sure what to look at next, "I'll bet."

Just before Zack had to leave for work, he announced he had one more thing to show her. Leading her down the hall to a closed door he had indicated as his room in passing before, "This is Einstein," Opening the door to his bedroom, he released a barking, wagging bundle of fur. Zack wore the proud smile of a loving pet owner. Before them, sat a wiggling mutt, his tail sweeping the floor.

"Like on _Back To The Future_!" Vivian exclaimed, after careful examination of the familiar looking canine. Zack nodded vigorously, a bobble head doll on a bumpy road. Vivian passed a hand over the dog's fur, and he arched into her hand, gazing up at her with trusting, liquid eyes, and she was lost.

---------------------------

"Auntie Viv!" Arms spread wide, Parker bolted from the swing he had occupied, to his crouching aunt, whose arms were open, waiting.

"Hey squirt!" Swinging him into her arms, she stood, and spun. The little boy giggled uncontrollably, clutching her neck.

"Y'know what?" Parker announced, and then leaned in to whisper into Vivian's ear. Her mouth and eyes formed 'o' shapes.

"No way!" She gaped, adjusting the boy in her arms, and watched -with a knowing look- her brother and his wife's approach. Booth curiously studied the look on his sister's face.

Vivian set Parker on his feet, and he immediately tugged her to the swings, clambering onto one and insisting, "Push me Auntie Viv! Push me!"

Grasping the chains, she drew back, and pushed forward, Parker giggling crazily, pumping his legs furiously.

Booth chuckled at the picture before him. It reminded him of one long past. A little girl on the swing and an older boy pushing. The difference was the adults, the parents, were missing. As they always were. The girl's hair flew back in the breeze, and he could hear her voice, _"Higher Seeley! Higher!"_

For Tempe too, this brought around memories. Though hers were felt with mixed emotions, a girl and her brother. Marco and Polo. The memories she called on still stung, as they had been disappeared far too early.

"Mommy Bones! Daddy!" Parker's childish voice boisterously cut through the air, breaking off any of the depressing thoughts the others had been having, "Come play!" He demanded, losing a sneaker as he tried to pump his legs faster, "Come on Daddy, push Mommy."

Booth, after retrieving the sneaker, inclined his head towards the empty swing besides Parker's, "Wanta Bones?"

Tempe began to refuse, but any excuse became too trivial. Grinning, she jogged to the swing, and hopped into the seat, clutching the chains, awaiting the push. Some things were too good to pass up. An afternoon of being a kid again was one of them.

---------------------------

Zack returned home from the museum that afternoon, to find Vivian seated cross-legged on the sofa, a large, leather bound album spread open over her lap. A box filled with more albums and Einstein sat on the floor, tongue lolling out.

"Whatcha looking at?" He asked, toeing off his shoes and sweeping them over beside the door.

"Photo album," She replied, flipping a laminated page. The afternoon had left her feeling nostalgic, "Wanna see?"

"Sure," Dropping his satchel on the chair, he flopped down beside her. As he did with everything, Zack carefully inspected each picture. He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus his line of sight when he came to one picture in particular, "Who's that?"

Vivian peered at the picture he pointed to, "Oh, that's my cousin Tommy. Tommy Quincy."

Zack's expression amazed, he gasped, "_The_ Tommy Quincy? Lil' Tommy Q? From _Boyz Attack_?"

"Wouldn't call him that, he might hurt you," Vivian said absently, and then focused, "_You _listened to _Boyz Attack_?"

Zack scrambled for an answer, "My sisters, they were really into…"

Vivian grinned big, held up a finger, motioning for him to pause, "You _totally _sang horribly off-key to 'Pick Up The Pieces'!"

Slumping, Zack admitted, "Okay, okay," He then admonished adamantly, "You can't tell a soul! Especially not Hodgins."

"I won't," Vivian promised, making an 'x' over her heart for dramatic flair. Conspiratorially, she assured him, "You're not the first to be embarrassed by their musical selection."

---------------------------

"What are you doing here on a Saturday?" Hodgins asked as he approached a woman with a sketchpad and her hair held back from her face with two charcoal pencils skewering a bun.

Angela tipped her head back, to see the bug guy with a hand planted on either side her chair, "Trying to figure out these dimensions. Since there hasn't been anything that took precedence, I've been working on recreating 3D images of ancient burials," She yawned deeply, "I can barely keep my eyes open."

"No, I know _what _you're doing," Hodgins spun a wheeled desk chair over from her drawing table, and sat in front of her, "_Why_ are you doing them on a Saturday? Shouldn't you be off with Toad?" The name -_what kind of name is Toad?_- made him want to kick something.

There was a suspicious redness to Angela's eyes, and a throaty tone that took over her voice, "Oh, well, um, Toad and I, we broke up."

"Really?" Realizing he sounded too happy, Hodgins quickly toned it down, "Really? I'm sorry Ange," He leaned forward in his seat, placing his hands on her knees. Inside, he was leaping for joy. The amphibian was out of the way! Controlling his inner jubilance, he reassured supportively, "You can do way better Ange."

Angela sniffled, "It's okay. I realized that I'm really not into him. He wasn't _the one_."

Curiously, Hodgins asked, "And who is?"

"Oh, I don't know," Angela shrugged, setting her clipboard on the table at her elbow, "Maybe I haven't met him yet."

"Maybe," Hodgins echoed, knowing he was blowing a golden opportunity, and still doing it, "You'll find him Ange."

"Thanks Jack," Using the arms to lever herself out of her chair, she bestowed a on him a kiss on his whiskered cheek, "I think I'm gonna go home. See ya Monday."

"Bye," He replied in a whisper after watching her exit the room. Dropping his head into his hands, he murmured vehemently, "Stupid, stupid."

---------------------------

"And that's Tom's sister, Allison. Ally's a doctor in New Jersey. An immunologist," Vivian and Zack had spent the next hour or so flipping through the many albums Vivian had stashed in her boxes.

At one point, Zack had asked, "I thought you didn't really get along with your family?"

Vivian sighed, "It's mostly with my parents. They were always so closed off from me."

"That bites," At her curious look, Zack explained, "I've been trying to incorporate contemporary 'lingo' into my vocabulary, is it working?"

Not quite sure what to make of him, Vivian replied, "Sure Zack, sure."

"Good," Though pleased with his small foray into popular lingo, Zack steered the conversation back to its original topic, "How come you never got along with your parents?"

Not accustomed to sharing so much with someone, Vivian instantly prickled at his question, "I don't know Zack, I can't read their minds. If I could have, I would have fixed it!" She bit her lips so hard it drew blood.

Taken aback, Zack slid away, nudging Einstein out of the way, "Oh, okay, I'm gonna go, and get some paper stuff done," He made his feeble excuse and his scurrying exit.

----------------------------

Sunday evening found Vivian and Hodgins on their usual stools at Wong Foos. A plate of onion rings sat in front of Viv, and they both picked at them.

"I snapped at Zack," Vivian slumped on her stool, propping her hand under each side of her jaw. Zack had spent the day making minimalist contact with her, speaking only when necessary.

"I blew a golden opportunity with Angela," Hodgins replied, assuming an identical position.

Not wanting to talk about her own problems, Viv delved into his, "Whaddya mean? What did you do?"

Nodding his thanks to Sid for the frothy mug set in front of him, Hodgins scrubbed a hand over his beard then through his curly top, "I had a _perfect _opportunity to go for it, but I just let it pass." He detailed the exchange for her. Vivian nodded, eating the batter around the onion, and leaving the naked onion on the platter. Hodgins slurped the onion like spaghetti.

"It's good you kept quiet," Vivian determined, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin, "Angela needs a friend right now, not a potential suitor. She needs you to be nice, supportive. You'll know when it's time."

Hodgins agreed slowly, then asked, "Why do you get onion rings if you're not gonna eat the onions?"

"I don't like onions, I like the batter," Vivian shrugged, leaving another skinned onion for him, "Besides, if I ate the onion, what would be there for you?"

Hodgins sucked another onion into his mouth, "You're all heart," He teased, grinning, "All heart."

----------------------------

Tempe woke up and reached for her husband, but he wasn't there. Feeling the indented space on the mattress he had earlier occupied, she found it cool. He had been missing for a while.

Slipping on the robe that hung on the hook on the door, she padded down the hall. She found a speculative Booth in a doorway, his arm propped against the frame, his eyes focused on the empty bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" Tempe slid her arms around his waist and rested her head in the groove between his shoulder blades.

"Mmmmm," Booth placed his hands over hers, "I hate giving him back."

"I know," Inhaling the scent that she always associated with him, she gazed around him to see the empty bed that drew his attention, "He loves you."

"More than the stars," Booth added absently, lacing his fingers with hers.

Tittering softly, Tempe squeezed him tightly, and repeated, "More than the stars."

---------------------------

Someone shouted her name.

"Temperance!" Her head jerked up to see David not far off. The Monday workday was finishing up, and Tempe was finishing up for the day. Setting the clipboard she had been studying on a lab table, she made her way over to him,

"David? What are you doing here?" She asked earnestly.

"I had to see you," David adjusted his jacket, "I heard what happened to your house, and I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Despite being somewhat touched about his caring, she was more interested in finding out why it took him more than a week to come see her if it was important too him. She was about to mention it, when a fast approaching blur caught her eye.

She nearly groaned aloud when she saw Michael bearing down on her. He skidded to a stop in front of her, and taking her hands in his, began babbling breathlessly. He completely ignored David, telling her that he had been out of town, that he had just heard about her house, was she okay; was there anything he could do?

She was drifting again, she thought, as she looked past Michael. _Booth_. He was standing not far off, watching her. When she caught his eyes, they were laughing at her. Her own eyes pleaded, _save me_. He pushed away from the wall he had been lounging against and came toward her.

He cleared his throat to make his presence known. Michael dropped her hands, and stepped to the side, but was looking at Booth as if _Booth_ was the interloper. David was watching the alpha male struggle the other two seemed trapped in. He had been in a similar struggle with Booth, but apparently the FBI Agent saw the other man as a bigger threat. Or enemy. Tempe though, was busily comparing her man to the two others, proud that he came out on top. Proudly, she thought, Booth dwarfed the other two. Both David and Michael seemed dwarfed by Booth. Booth was broader, thicker, more muscular. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She began think that she was becoming biased where Booth was concerned.

"Hey," He dropped a kiss on her mouth, one that lingered even after he had moved off. He took her hand in his, brushing his thumb across the knuckles.

"Michael, David, you should remember Special Agent Booth," Tempe could feel her face flush, "My husband."

Michael was the first to speak, though having no idea as of what to say, "You're married?"

Neither of the two visitors could control their reaction. While David was indeed shocked by her declaration, he wasn't as surprised as Michael. David had suspected something between Tempe and Booth from the start, ever since Booth had hauled him into an interrogation room and grilled him, while tossing well-timed, jealous and suspicion-filled accusations at Internet dating.

"Yes," Booth replied curtly, "Problem with that?"

Michael would have eagerly answered the challenge in Booth's voice, but David could see that a fight would only turn out badly. Besides, Booth was armed, "No, no problem," He said quickly, "Uh, congratulations."

"Thank-you," Temperance could tell the room was filled with testosterone, but she had no idea that the heightened emotions forming a fog around them, were because they were fighting over her. Tempe would have called that a selfish assumption, though inside, she would have never thought herself worthy of such an assumption.

"So, what brings you two here?" Booth asked, asserting his dominant status, after all, he had the prize.

Both David and Michael blurted at the same time, "I came to see if Tempe was all right."

"Uh-huh," Booth nodded, that suspicious expression, that David recognized all too well, appearing, "And what made you both wait more than a week before doing so?"

Temperance gaped up at him. He had just read her mind. Booth had an uncanny ability to do that; sometimes it unnerved her when he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

For Michael, his dislike of Booth had not lessened since the two men had parted ways the first time. They had been outside the courthouse, Booth calmly stating that if he ever did anything to hurt his Bones again, then he would have to deal with him. _Fine, _is what Michael thought, "I was at a dig site. I just got back in the States the day before yesterday. Not that I have to report to you," He added with more than a bit of venom in his voice.

Temperance jiggled the hand Booth held to get him to loosen his grip. He was holding her hand too hard, cutting off the blood flow. And if he could read her mind, she could read his. Right now he was thinking, _I'm going to wipe the smirk off that bastard's face_.

"I was on a business trip," David again jumped in before the other two men could start taking whacks at each other, "I just got in yesterday. My secretary told me what happened when I called in for my messages."

Booth looked skeptical, "A business trip? What, did you have to chase the numbers?"

David feigned a laugh then his face fell serious, "I was scouting potential clients for my accounting firm."

Clenching his jaw, Booth nodded slowly, fighting the tickle at the corners of his mouth.

_Was she invisible? _Tempe wondered. It was as if none of them could see her, they had forgotten that she was there. Though her hand was still enclosed in Booth's, that physical contact wasn't deterring his focus on the other two. It was then that Tempe saw that to Booth, Michael and David were threats. _He was staking his claim_, she thought irritably, _he was making sure that they knew not to go near what was his. _She resented being treated like she was a possession. She felt like tearing her hand from Booth's, but despite her own strength, it didn't match his in an instance such as this.

"It was nice of you to make stop by, and make sure I was all right," She smiled pleasantly, "Thank-you," Sending them on their way would lessen the testosterone levels, she thought, for sure.

"Yeah, real nice," Booth could feel Bones grip his hand, warning him to behave.

David saw this as time to make his exit, "Uh, well, it's good that you're okay. Congratulations again," He would have extended his hand to shake, but decided against it, "Maybe I'll see you around?" Not waiting for a response, he headed off, grateful to be away from that.

Michael though, either didn't see the hint, or care, "It was a good thing that you were so close by," He said cryptically, looking straight at Booth, "Otherwise, who knew what could have happened."

Booth shrugged, he had thought about that. If Bones hadn't gotten hammered with him the night before, and wound up at his house, in his bed, she could have been _inside_ the house when it went up. It gave him a surge of irrational fear up his spine.

"I suppose you were just protecting your Bones," Michael taunted in a malice filled voice, "Like always."

A look transpired between them, the meaning Tempe was oblivious to. All she knew was that if she didn't get her husband out of there, one of them would take a swing at the other. Right there in the lab!

"Look at the time," She glanced at her watch, not long enough to see where the hands pointed, "We'd better go. Thanks again for stopping by Michael," With a firm tug on his hand; she began to pull Booth away.

-----------------------------

They hadn't said a word since they'd reached the car, getting in, and pulling away from the Jeffersonian parking lot. Tempe tapped her fingernails lightly against the window ledge, staring out of the window; Booth gripped the steering wheel and kept his eyes intently focused on the splattering rain. He flicked the setting up on the windshield wipers. He wondered how long it would take before she said anything.

"What was _that_ all about?" They were half way home when she finally asked, "You were about to start whacking at each other!"

"Come on Bones," He shifted his gaze from the road to her, "It wasn't that bad."

"Oh, please," Tempe scoffed, "It was like a testosterone smog in there Booth. All the three of you could do was stare at each other, like animals all vying for the same mate."

Booth didn't speak, keeping his eyes on the road again. But there was something, the clench of his jaw, the stiff way he held himself. There was something she was missing.

"What did Michael mean when he said you were protecting your Bones again?" She questioned carefully. She wanted to know, but then she didn't.

His jaw clenched again, his posture stiffer. He didn't want to tell her.

"Seeley?" She prompted. She could tell he was holding something back from her. And she didn't like it. For so long they'd shared so much, what could he have to hide?

He sighed, flicking on his turning signal, and pulling into their driveway. Turning off the car, he cupped the keys in his hand, rattling them around in his closed fist. He turned only his neck to look at her with something that seemed suspiciously like guilt,

"Inside?" It was a question, not a statement. The missing aura of command, of control put her on guard. Tempe nodded, and he got out slowly, taking his time locking the SUV and walking up to the door. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up beside her, his arm brushing hers, and opened the door. He held it open for her, so she had to duck her head to pass under his arm.

Tempe clasped her arms around herself, back rigid, awaiting the coming explanation, and not sure at all if she was going to like what was said.

Booth sighed, knowing she be _upset _with what was to come next, he wasn't raring to tell her. It wasn't that bad, he told himself, it was long ago.

Tossing the keys into the dish that sat by the front door with a clang, Booth sighed once again, and began, "You remember the case, with Maggie Shilling? The girl in the refrigerator?"

"How could I forget?" Tempe felt the tension chew at her; "You had the lawyer blindside me in court."

"Yeah," Booth shrugged off his suit jacket, loosened the buttons at his collar, and pocketed his tie. He sheepishly continued, "I met Michael outside, after he said all that about you, speculating about the evidence, questioning why you'd become an anthropologist."

The memory had barely faded. Tempe nodded, tucking wayward hairs behind her ear as she waited for him to continue.

"He was all fired to go after you, but I wouldn't let him. I told him that if he ever hurt you again, professionally or otherwise, he would have to deal with me," Now it was Booth's turn to wait, on pins and needles, for her reaction.

"You did what?" She asked, but as he began to repeat, she held a palm up to cut him off, "I heard you, I just can't believe it. How could you _interfere _like that? That was between me and Michael."

"I hate to see you hurt Bones," Booth began pacing the length of the room and back again, "I could see it your eyes and it made me see red. I felt like I _had _to do something."

"You had to," Not completely understanding the male ego, Temperance huffed her response, repeating, "You had to," _Why did he always feel the insane need to protect her from everything?_ She wondered. This was something she had thought about again and again over the past year. He was forever taking verbal bites at anybody who was the least aggressive towards her. Was it his way of _claiming _her as his?

Not sure she would ever reach a consensus, Tempe needed to be alone, to gather her thoughts. She stalked into and out of their room, taking the shirt she now slept in with her, grumbling that he was an asinine male.

"Where are you going Bones?" He called after her.

"I'm going to sleep elsewhere," She called back, "I think we need to be apart right now." She could hear him sigh and could picture him rolling his eyes. This had annoyed her further, and strengthened her resolve to spend the night alone.

Ten minutes later, cold and drowsy, her understandings no better, she'd returned to their room and discretely slipped into bed. Tucking her arms under her pillow, she couldn't stifle her contented sigh. She could feel him turn over beside her,

"I thought you were going to sleep in the other room?"

"Yeah, well," She yawned deeply, "That didn't work out."

He looped an arm around her waist, hauling her back against him, "So I'm forgiven?"

"Don't push it," Tempe mumbled, but by the way she snuggled back against him, and gripped his arm around her, he knew.

Pushing her hair aside, he nuzzled his face against the nape of her neck then pressed a kiss there. Tightening his hold on her, he settled her flush against him, and rested his chin on top of her head.

Inhaling deeply, Tempe's lids drooped again. She could fall asleep here.

-------------------------

**Author's Notes: **If you can correctly guess the identities of Tommy and Allison, I'll dedicate the next chapter to you! Good luck!


	12. Changes in the Air

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1**Title: **Changes in the Air

**Summery**Angela senses change in the air, Bren has an appointment, and Booth has a discussion with a cat. Vivian has issues with her first day on the new job, Zack becomes a fashion consultant, and Hodgins listens to _Weird Al_.

**Disclaimer: **Bones and its characters belong not to me. I'm just borrowing them for a little fun.

**Author's Notes: **

**1.** I'll bet you all thought I had pretty much fallen off the edge of the Internet. Not exactly, but almost. I read the _Author's Note_ for the last posted chapter, and I felt so bad. _School starting soon?_ Well not exactly. I'm sorry guys; I got a couple of reviews, had chapter fragments, but never got a second to do any real writing and editing. This past year has been eventful and difficult. Sorry ya'all were neglected. I'm trying to get back into the swing. Maybe I should get a beta, to bounce ideas off of, and to kick my virtual butt when I start to forget again. And that said;

**2. **Wow! I didn't expect so many people to take a stab at guessing the cousins. Kudos to all of those who tried. Many were able to guess Cousin Ally, but Tommy seemed a bit more difficult.

For those who don't know, Tom Quincy is from _Instant Star. _He's an ex-boy-band-hottie turned in-demand producer with a super-secret past wrought with bad. He also has a (definitely mutual!) thing for his producee and friend, Jude, the very first Instant Star. Allison Cameron is from _House MD. _Allison is an immunologist, with an interest in her former boss, the crusty Greg House.

This chapter is dedicated to all those who got both Tom and Cam. _Melody Rosewater, __The__ Reviewing Phantom, __FireInTheStars__, MissMollyD87, Jacques, Rockerbaby423, and Anonymous. _

**3.** And a special thank-you to whomever it was (I can't find the review! Sorry!) that reminded me about poor Birdie!

-----------------------

"Seeley. Seeley," Brennan shook her sleeping husband's shoulder, "Come on. It's time to get up."

He mumbled something incoherent.

"Wake up!" She called right by his ear.

"I'm up," He groaned. Glancing her up and down, he said, "You ready so soon?"

"I've got an appointment before I go to the lab," She crossed to the mirror and smoothed on a coat of lipstick.

"What kind of appointment?" He asked, stretching groggy limbs.

"A doctor's appointment."

"Doctor's appointment?" Concern crept into his voice as his mind started turning coherently.

Turning back to him, she smiled, "It's just a routine exam. The museum insists all employees get a yearly medical examination. Its protocol," Brennan shook her shoulders, "I hate hospitals."

He knew. He was the one dragging her there when she got injured. She didn't even like going when it was he getting poked and prodded. It always promised to be _interesting_, "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No," Pressing a palm to his chest, she gave him a peck on the lips, then used her thumb to remove the tint of pink her lipstick left on him, "You should go to work," She gave his chest a final pat before withdrawing her hand; "I will be fine."

"Sure?" He pushed himself into a sitting position, balancing on his elbows.

"Uh-huh," She nodded, "I'll see you later."

Drawing her back to down to him for one final kiss, he released her, "Be good," He admonished.

"Yeah, yeah." He didn't bother stifling a chuckle at her kiss-off. He _always_ pitied her doctors. They never knew what hit them.

--------------------------

"No, no," Vivian half-chanted to herself as she dug through the articles of clothing she had as of yesterday, hung in the closet. Now, they covered the bed like a quilt, discarded for the time being as she tried to select a proper _first day of work_ outfit. From the doorway, Einstein watched, his head cocked to one side, curious. The canine was ready to duck and cover in case another shoe came flying his way.

She wasn't having any luck. She'd gotten up extra early to be able to put the effort into making herself appear as a professional. She glanced over at the neon green numbers on her bedside alarm clock, and realized if she didn't make a choice soon, she'd be late. Vivian settled her hands on her hips and inspected the clothing covered bed, scrutinizing the few fully visible items. What was she going to wear? And why was the decision so damn difficult?

Removing the clothes from her bed one by one, she found herself beginning her earlier actions, "No, no, no, no," Finally, she spouted an exasperated groan, and threw her hands up in the air. At this rate, she'd end up going to her first day of work without a stitch of clothing on, save for her underwear!

An idea popped into her all ready flustered head and out of her mouth before she had the wherewithal to tramp it down, "Zack!"

The patter of feet quickly sounded, before Einstein bounded fully into the room and another shaggy head occupied the canine's original seat, "Yeah?"

Vivian grabbed two wire hangers from the overload that swathed her bed, "What do you think? Which says _I'm professional_?"

-----------------------------

Angela sipped her coffee, staring at her painting. She hadn't done anything particularly artistic for fun lately. No, her talents were mostly all used up by the time she got home. But last night, she had felt the need to paint something. To express herself and unload all the things that were clogging her mind. Her picture was one of them all; Bren, Booth, Zack, Hodgins and herself. With all the changes and upheavals as of late, she needed something to keep herself grounded, to restore that sense of balance she so craved, despite how much it appeared that she outwardly enjoyed the chaos. Angela knew that she wasn't as equipped as the others to handle the day-to-day of the work they did. The grotesqueness, the decomposition and the death. Sometimes she wished she could put the images that flashed across her screen out of her mind; pretend the evils she saw of the human race did not exist.

And she could, but only for a short time, until the realities came crashing back down. Those evils were real, and despite the want for them to go away, they continued to knock. And when she didn't answer, they burst in the door, uninvited. She would have to deal with them, to deal period, in her own way. She always had. She always would.

Sighing, she placed the now empty mug in the already crowded sink. She should really do dishes soon. Staring out of the window, Angela couldn't help but feel this strange unease fall over her, as if things were soon to be disrupted again. She began to brush it off as melancholia; but Angela Montenegro had never been one to ignore signs. Just because she couldn't see it or touch it or examine it, didn't mean it didn't exist.

She only wondered what was in store for her. And for those she cared for. What would change? What would go wrong? She would have to wait and see.

----------------------------

_Which one says what?_ Zack wondered, his eyes drawn to the plush pants that encased shapely legs and the skimpy tank top that left _very_ little to the imagination. _Stop! _Zack mentally shook himself, trying desperately to drag his eyes away from her alluring shape and to look her in the face. He stuttered, "You want me to do what?"

She was frantically digging through the piles of material on her bed, "I have to find something to wear to work. I can't decide," She looked up at him, puppy-dog eyes in place, "Help me."

He melted, into a puddle of Zack mush on the floor. He wanted to help, but what did he know about women's clothing? What did he know about the female species at all? He wanted to impress Vivian, especially since he had hurt her feelings the other day when asking about her family and then avoided her for the rest of the weekend. Zack wanted to make up for that.

"Uh," He wiggled into the room around Einstein and he too began sorting through the heap that once was a bed. He grabbed two of the first things he saw, "What about these?" He held them up to himself, one at each shoulder.

Vivian couldn't help it, she chortled. The items Zack held were a pair of fluorescent purple spandex pants and a chocolate brown blazer, "I don't know if that's _quite_ what I'm looking for. Almost, but not quite."

"Okay," Zack wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was more than willing to try.

----------------------------

Booth shook out his jacket and began stuffing his arms into the sleeves; at the same times he shoved his feet into his shoes. After unwinding a loose thread from around his watch, he reached down to grab his service piece from where it waited in its lock box on the dresser's top.

"Merow."

Booth found himself face to face with a previously underground feline, "Hello cat," Arching an eyebrow he stared at the inquiring yellow eyes, "If you're plotting to shed on my pants think again."

Birdie stared up at the large man with unwavering yellow eyes. Just stared; not blinking. It was grating on him. Booth wasn't exactly fond of cats, but this one he was stuck with. All because of Bones, who would have thought the woman would have a soft spot for felines? "Alright cat, go on. Get. Shoo. Go do cat things. Go sleep for the next eighteen hours straight, go lick yourself in inappropriate places, just go. You're starting to freak me out."

The giant white cat continued to fix the same unchanging stare at the FBI Agent. Then his huge head swiveled and the cat looked to the door, as if expecting an intruder.

"Ah," Booth scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Looking for that noisemaker aren't you?"

If cats could nod, Birdie would have. The kitty been scarce all weekend, only appearing for a moment to gobble his food and then he'd disappear again. He'd stayed a safe distance from stampeding feet and grabbing fingers. Upon first inspection, Parker had played too rough with the kitty, resulting in a slight altercation (and scratch). Birdie had been wary after that. Smiling at the 'fraidy-cat', Booth assured, "He's gone furball. You've got nothing to worry about."

The cat's stare returned to Booth's face. Booth shook himself, before stepping over Birdie and hurrying off to the end of the hall and down the stairs. Watching the back of the suit jacket flap behind the man, Birdie gave one, languid blink.

----------------------------

"Good morning Doctor Brennan," The woman at the reception desk smiled brightly, "Doctor McGillivray will be with you in just a moment. Why don't you have a seat?"

"Thank-you," Brennan murmured, then took a seat in one of the characteristically uncomfortable looking chairs that speckled the waiting room. She perused through the pile of magazines on an end table, not really recognizing any of the people that occupied the covers. Unearthing a copy of _National Geographic_, Brennan plucked it from the pile, and leafed through it.

As none of the articles really piqued her interest, her mind began to wander. It flitted along to Booth, and the progress they'd made in the preceding weeks.

Looking down at her hand, the realization of what her life had become hit her. She was married. To Booth, of all people. They were trying to work on it, and they were staying together. And though he aggravated her on a regular basis, as she did him, it was working. Something about them fit, their personalities meshed. Brennan had never been one to place much stock in love or in psychology, but the two subjects were beginning to come clearer to her. To some extent. Apparently, love was never completely clear to anyone. There was always changes, blurry spots. And psychology was just twisted in all sorts of directions. Nothing was cemented, nothing concrete.

Another thing that Brennan would never have expected to occur for her was to be a mother. Really, a step-mother, but still. Any form of that word or occupation she would never have associated with herself. She enjoyed the time she spent with her nieces, with her brother and his family; but was always unsure as to how she could mold such a thing into her own life for herself. Brennan pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and rarely pulled them out to look at them. Then it was dropped into her lap, and she found that she enjoyed it. Having another person depend on you and trust in you so completely. It gave one a feeling of such fulfillment, such warmth and love.

Yes love. There was that word again. The more it appeared, the more Brennan tried to study it, and the more the answers evaded her. All she could tell was that she felt it, and that it was real; though she'd tried to explain it away with scientific facts and idioms. She couldn't, and thus it astounded her.

"Doctor Brennan?" The nurse's voice called her from her thoughts, "The doctor will see you now."

----------------------------

Vivian had to trot to keep up with Mrs. Lucille (_call me Lucy_) Gagnon's quick stride. The older woman marched at a fast clip down the cracked hallway, explaining the different facets of the center,

"We're a privately run center, which means no city funding," Her shoes made hurried _click _sounds on the floor as she made her way down the hall, "We rely on the donations made by the financially overt in the community. We meet with them periodically; go over budgets, that sort of thing. It's a good tax write-off for them."

Vivian nodded, trying to take in and retain all the knowledge being launched at her. Her stomach felt like its contents were fluttering. Finally they arrived at their destination.

"Here we are," Lucy sang out, removing a key ring from her polyester pantsuit pocket, "This is your office," She passed the key to Vivian, "I'll leave you to get settled."

The fluttering became a beating, a pulse in her abdomen. Before her was a closed door that held a name plaque under a frosted glass window. The plaque read 'V. Booth Social Worker'. The pulse quickened from excited throb to rapid palpation, and the only words able to escape her tightened throat were, "My office."

Her office. It held significance for her. Before she worked in a cramped cubicle with three other people; phones always ringing, people coming and going, paperwork piled so high each desk had begun to look like a fort. Her own office; with her own door. Her own plaque.

Slowly she turned the key in the lock. It clicked open and she turned the handle. Opening the door wide, she surveyed the room. It even had a window. She clutched the key in one hand and held herself back from spinning in a circle.

"Staff meeting at three-thirty," Lucy informed Vivian as she retreated from the room, "Take some time; get acquainted with the place. Remember, three-thirty in the boardroom. I'll be in my office if you have any questions."

"Lucy," Vivian called after the older woman. When her grey head poked back into the room, Vivian shrugged, "Thank-you."

Lucy smiled, "You're welcome. Good luck."

It even had a window.

-------------------------------

Hodgins whistled a mangled version of _Amish Paradise_ to himself as he adjusted the microscope to the correct magnification. The samples he had on the slide were from an ancient burial ground, and were going to be stored in the Egyptian exhibit. There was always work to be accomplished, and Hodgins worked his way through the piles that appeared and grew like fungus on his tables. Still, he wished for a case. The rush, the thrill of being on the trail of a baddie. The rush of being part of the crime fighting process, of doing something for the greater good. It was something that he enjoyed, though he had to continually explain that _dirt wasn't just dirt_ and _silt_ had _absolutely no _meaning in his vocabulary.

Switching the slides in the microscope, Hodgins wondered how his new friend was doing at her new position. Viv had been determined to make a good impression, or so she said that morning before when he'd seen her. She'd been pulling Zack's goofy dog from his rose bushes. He had worked hard on cultivating those freaking roses. And then to drag Zack's backwardly named, idiot dog out of them just made him hopping mad. Just thinking about the mess his plants were in because of that mangy mutt, made him frustrated. She'd teased him about hopping over the steps to haul the damn dog from his flowers, calling him froggy. That was where the hopping mad crack had come from. He resented being compared to an amphibian.

"Hey Hodgins," Angela trilled as she passed by his station.

"Hiya Miss Montenegro," He replied, "Whatcha up to?"Angela nodded toward Brennan's office, which held Brennan, Goodman, and a woman they didn't recognize, "What do you thinks is going on there?"

"I don't know," Hodgins craned his neck around to get a better view of the office in question, "A pow-wow of the powers that be? Plotting to somehow program our brains to up the efficiency?"

Angela rolled her eyes, "Uh huh."

-----------------------------

"A couple swimming found the trunk," Booth explained, stepping around a gaggle of people sifting through silt and mud with trowels, "They were skinny dipping."

Brennan's eyebrows shot upward, and she searched the crowd for the discoverers. They stood on the sidelines, talking to a uniformed officer with police issue, emergency blankets clenched around them, "In broad daylight?"

"To each their own Bones," Booth replied cryptically, "Here you go," They'd stopped in front of a trunk about four feet long and two wide. It had once been shiny black, but now it was a dull dingy color, the latch and hinges tarnished and rusted. Dirt and pond weeds draped the lid. The lock was broken.

"What happened to the lock?" Brennan's voice took on the commanding, questioning tone; as it did when she suspected evidence procurement procedures were not being followed.

Booth hiked a thumb at the blanket wearers, "The adventurers got over excited, thought they'd found buried treasure."

"What did they use to break the lock?"

"Smashed it with a rock," Booth indicated a nearby rock, "You gonna want to take the whole thing back to the lab?"

"Yeah," Brennan knelt beside the trunk, removing the lock and bagging it, "I'm also gonna need samples of the dirt for Hodgins, and of the water. He can check for microbes and particulates in the water."

"Yes ma'am," Booth acquiesced, ordering two agents to transport the trunk and its contents safely to the Jeffersonian.

--------------------

**Author's Note: **Sooo, a case? And now a new chapter. Hopefully it was half-way worth the wait.


	13. Beginnings

**Title: **Beginnings

**Summary: **The Jeffersonian gets a new boss, Zack asserts his humanity, Vivian meets her co-workers, Hodgins has fun, Brennan and Booth talk, and Angela has nothing to do.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything...I'm very, very broke.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, so I've got a break from school, which I planned to utilize fully. Which is how this chapter came to be. ;) Then, I got stalled, the holidays got busy, and sadly, I find the best time to write is at two in the morning, when no one can come and pester you for stupid stuff. Unless you count being told to shut off the damn light and go to sleep as stupid.

And if anyone is interested in becoming a beta for this story, and possibly others, send me a PM. I could use the occasional virtual kick in the butt, and someone to bounce an idea or three off of, and someone to point out the inconsistencies and plot holes.

-----------------------------------

"Pass me that evidence bag," Brennan held out a hand without looking up from her assessing of their recently discovered case.

"Right here Doctor Brennan," Zack efficiently slapped the baggie into her waiting hand.

"Zack, I want you to take samples of the water and the soil. We'll see what Hodgins can find from them," Brennan instructed.

"Yes Doctor Brennan," Zack promptly slung a kit bag over his shoulder, and headed for the water's edge, squatting in his rubber boats and official _Jeffersonian_ _Medico-Legal Lab_ coveralls.

Booth stood not far from Brennan, assuming his normal stance; hands on hips, jacket swaying around in the breeze, watching as she examined the body closely, occasionally scribbling something onto her clipboard, "Did I interrupt something back there?"

Finishing whatever note she happened to be making, Brennan stripped off her latex glove, and held out her hand for Booth to help her up the small incline. As soon as she was securely at the top, she slowly took off her other glove, digit by digit, "Back where?'

Booth tried to ignore the slow, languid removal of the glove, and focused on the fact they were standing in a crime scene. Exhaling harshly, he planted his hands on his hips, "Back in your office. You have a meeting with Goodman?"

"Doctor Goodman," Brennan began, and Booth couldn't help but notice the tone of distain in his wife's voice, "Has decided that to up the efficiency of the lab, he's going to bring in a department head."

Booth arched an eyebrow, clearly seeing her annoyance covering her upset, "What'd you mean, bring in a department head?"

Dismissing his question, she began listing off case facts, "The skull has been pulverized, and the hands have been removed. The victim was female. We'll know more once we get the body back to the lab," She sighed, brushed mud from the knees of her coveralls, "But it appears like whoever did this _really _didn't want the victim to be identified."

"Looks that way," Booth sighed deeply. Gazing down at the body, now lifted free of the trunk, he chewed his bottom lip. The lengths the killer had gone to, to remove the victim's identity. No matter how many times he came upon a battered body or a decomposed corpse, disgust still rose within in for the animal that could perpetrate such acts against fellow human beings. It renewed his resolve to catch the bastards who thought they could do things like what he was staring down at, and be untouchable.

Gritting his teeth, Booth surveyed the crime scene, watching as people scurried here and there, gathering and placing items in evidence baggies; snapping pictures, and sifting through the mud at the water's edge.

Brennan noticed that he'd become lost in his own world, "Booth? You alright?"

"Yeah," He nodded, "You?"

She mimed his nod and response, seeing full well that he was introspective, "Yeah."

He could see that something was bothering her, be it the case or the "meeting" he had come into the tail end of. He wanted to pursue what had her so bothered, but he knew that this wasn't the place. It was obvious that she didn't want to talk about it. He dropped the subject, for now, with full intentions to pick it back up.

----------------------------

"Hey."

Vivian looked up from the files she had begun to forage through, the desk now strewn with them, "Hey."

A man with cocoa colored skin and snapping green eyes stood in her doorway, his shoulders almost touching on each side of the narrow frame. He wore a pair of cotton track pants, and a well-fitted orange t-shirt. Entering the room, he extended a hand to her from across the desk, "I'm Lucas Blythe; I run the athletics for the centre."

"Vivian Booth," Accepting the handshake with a grin, Vivian stood to lean over her desk, "I'm the new social worker."

"Lucy said you were starting today," Lucas smiled as he rocked back on his sneaker clad heels, "How goes it so far?"

"Right now, I'm trying to figure out this filing system," Vivian waved her hand over the stacked desk, "It doesn't really have much of a system. They were all just stuffed into the drawer."

"Yeah, Ned," Lucas smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "He wasn't really one for organizing."

"So I've noticed," Vivian chuckled, smoothing back the wisps of hair that had fallen over her eyes, "It could take me awhile before I get them all in order," She sighed, gazing down at the overflowing open drawer of _her_ filing cabinet, the fact that it was _hers_ still filled her with glee, "Better get started eh?"

----------------------------

Hodgins' head snapped to attention as Zack entered the room, "What've you got for me?"

"Water and dirt samples," Zack proclaimed, knowing _dirt_ would annoy his methodical friend to no end, "Doctor Brennan wants them analyzed, post-haste."

"How many times do I have to explain to you that it is _never just dirt_," Hodgins retorted, aggravated, "And Brennan so did not say post-haste."

Zack was well aware of this, "So?"

"What are you? Sixty-three?" Hodgins snickered, removing the labeled sample jars from the bag Zack planted on his desk, "Nobody says post-haste."

"Why not? It's a perfectly acceptable phrase-"

Hodgins cut off Doctor Addy's babbling, "Zack, Zack. What have I told you about trying to successfully mimic being human? You have to use words that normal people would have seriously used in the past decade."

"I _am_ human," Zack was now the one aggravated. Hodgins grinned; clearly he'd gotten his desired effect.

"Whatever you say man," Hodgins turned to smearing a bit of a soft mud sample onto a slide with a flat wooden stick with rounded ends. Settling that slide within the microscope's stage clips, he turned back to his colleague, who still leaned over the circular cubical walling around Hodgins' station. Holding up a hand, he separated his middle and ring fingers, "Live long and prosper dude."

------------------------------

"Morning Bren, Zack, Hodgins," Angela announced as she swiped her id card and joined the others clustered around one of the lab tables, "What have you got for me?"

"Actually Ange," Brennan looked up from her table to her best friend, "We don't really have a face for you."

"That's why I'm here sweetie," Angela gently reminded her friend, "To try and recreate the face."

"I mean there's nothing to really get a face from," Brennan's attention was back to what her table contained as she gently probed something.

Angela gulped as she took her first look at the body that lie on the table. The face had been smashed beyond recognition; the clothes were filthy, the skin was mottled and bloodied, the wrists were jaggedly hacked at in removing the hands. Angela pressed a hand to her mouth as a bile rose within her, "Oh my god."

Hodgins took her wrist and led her away from the table, helping her to sit in a nearby chair, "Ange, I-"

"I'm okay," She quickly assured, "Just a momentary reaction."

"Sure," Hodgins agreed, though he knew the artist was commonly disgusted and shaken by the things that entered the lab, the bodies and cases they dealt with, and did not possess the detachment the scientists did. She portrayed the emotional reaction, while the rest had been instructed on how to disguise theirs.

Brennan glanced apologetically at Angela, "When we have something, we'll get you to run the details through missing persons. Maybe there might be enough of the skull fragments remaining to reconstruct the skull."

"Right," Angela nodded, rising from her chair, "Find something. This person's family deserves to know."

"We'll try," Brennan determinedly replied.

"We will," Amended Hodgins.

---------------------------

"A,a,a,b,b,c, damn, e," Vivian chanted her alphabet as she organized the files in her lap.

"I think it goes a,b,c,_d_,e," An amused voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Oh, um, hi," Vivian craned her neck back to see who she was talking to from her position on the floor. She sat cross-legged, with a stack of files in her lap, "I'd stand, but the mess would grow exponentially."

"Oh the joys of paperwork," The voice was now cynical as its owner adjusted her office-appropriate skirt and squatted to speak eye level with Viv, "I'm Katherine Hardy, general coordinator. You must be Vivian, the new social worker," Katherine shrugged one shoulder sluggishly; "I read the plaque."

Vivian got a chuckle out of that, "Well, that's what it's there for."

"It helps in a crunch," Katherine agreed, snickering along.

"So," Vivian asked as moments ticked by on the wall clock above their heads, "What exactly does a general coordinator do?"

"What don't I do?" Katherine pursed her glossed lips, "Paperwork. I coordinate the programs that are suggested by the team. I schedule, I confirm. I troubleshoot," She used the ledge of the desk to lever herself from the floor, "I have my fingers in all the pots."

"And Lucy? I kind of thought that was what she did," Vivian ever-so-carefully placed the haphazard stack of files on the worn and faded pea green loveseat shoved in one corner of her small office; then climbed to her feet, fixing the hem of her top as she stood.

"Lucy approves everything," Katherine explained, "I write the report," She paused, corrected herself, "I write the report_s_. For there are always several."

"Ah," Vivian spoke as if the light bulb had just come on over her head, "You get the fun stuff."

Katherine snorted, "I think I'm going to like you."

Vivian grinned, "Likewise."

------------------------------

Hodgins was already digging into his sandwich when Zack popped his container in the microwave. He watched it carefully, as he did everyday, every few minutes he'd stop the heating process to stir the food his container held.

"Let me guess," Hodgins declared as Zack settled himself at a chair at Hodgins' table in the cafeteria, "Macaroni?"

Zack looked up from his noodles, "Yes."

"Man, you eat the same thing everyday," Hodgins chewed the bit of sandwich he'd pocketed in his cheek and then spoke again, "You're very predictable Addy."

"I happen to like macaroni and cheese," Zack forked up a bit of the stuff and tucked it into his mouth, carefully avoiding spilling the sauce on himself, "And it's quick and easy to make."

"That's sad Zack," Hodgins shook his head dismally, taking his friend's comment to mean the kid couldn't cook, "Even _I _can cook."

"Really?" Zack asked, disbelieving, "What can _you_ cook?"

"More than noodles. Ever thought about a little protein?"

"I get protein," Zack quickly asserted, removing another container from the lunch bag he'd plopped beside himself. In it, Hodgins soon discovered, was baloney.

"That's not protein," Hodgins feigned aversion, "Do you know what's in that stuff?"

"Yes," Zack replied calmly, before taking a bite, "I have a photographic memory. I remember everything that was on the package. Would you like me to repeat it for you?"

"No," Hodgins instantly admonished, for he too, ate baloney on occasion, "But if you know all that why do you eat it?"

Zack took another large bite and chewed it fully before answering, "It tastes good."

--------------------------

"Q,q,r,r,r,r, shit, t," Vivian muttered as she continued her alphabetizing.

"Y'know, you sounded like a pirate for a minute there," Katherine observed, entering the room once again, "Although, I'm starting to understand your version of the alphabet much better."

Vivian joked, "Soon, they'll be teaching it in schools across the nation," She slid her stack of files into a drawer, now completed, "That one's finished."

"Are you ladies ready for lunch?" Lucas appeared once again, taking up the entire doorway with his broad frame.

"Lunch?" Vivian's tone held a question, which led Katherine to reply,

"In some cultures, it's a custom to eat a meal at midday, to sustain and replenish a person's energy for the rest of the day," Katherine cracked a smile as Vivian checked her watch.

"Wow, I spent more than half of the day going through probably less than half of the alphabet."

"Just wait until you see the other drawers," Lucas teased, with a serious note to his voice.

"Please tell me you're joking," Vivian all but pleaded.

--------------------------

Upon arrival home that night, Booth announced he was going for a quick shower. Brennan, as she puttered in their kitchen, barely indicated that she heard him. Wandering to the bathroom, Booth pondered what could have his wife so pensive.

Returning not long after, he found Brennan furiously stirring a pot on the stove. She threw a handful of vegetables forcefully into whatever she was mixing. He hadn't realized she knew he was there until she spoke, "Dinner'll be ready in half an hour."

"Alright," He approached her cautiously, "You wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" Brennan slammed the lid down on the pot.

"Whatever's got your panties in a bunch," Booth sunk into a kitchen chair, watching the straight lines of her back as she stood facing the stove.

"My panties are _fine_," Brennan turned; braced her behind against the counter's edge.

"It's an idiom Bones," Booth laid his hands, palms down on the table top, "It means-"

"I _know_ what it means," She snapped, "I'm not an idiot."

"Okay, okay Bones," Booth made a _whoa there_ face, "Geez, sorry."

"No, I'm," With a heavy sigh, she folded herself into the chair next to his at the table, "I'm not angry with you."

"That's good to know," Booth tried to coax a smile from her. He succeeded only slightly; as one side of her lips curled upward. Reaching across the table, she slipped her hand in his, turning it over. Flattening her palm to his, she compared the difference in size between his hand and hers, "Goodman is bringing in a new department head of 'Forensics'."

"Do you know when? Who?"

Brennan nodded, "Goodman brought her in today. She starts on Monday."

"And this bothers you." He stated, though it was posed as a question.

"Yes. Goodman just _appoints_ this new person, someone whom I've never heard of before, for a position I've never heard of before, and tells me to make her feel at home with the rest of the team," Brennan fumed, "And then he announces that he's moving to Egypt, to work on a dig there, which he is clearly doing to avoid me."

"He's going to Egypt?" Booth asked disbelievingly, "Just to avoid you?"

"It's not the only reason, obviously," Brennan waved a hand, dismissing his incredulous look that said she was being ridiculous, "He's been hinting at relocating for a while now. It's that the _timing_ is overtly suspicious," The tone she was using could only be described as _ticked_, "Doctor Goodman knows that I have serious qualms about this, and he's clearly chosen to leave the country to avoid having to own up to the fact that he's throwing a randomly new person into the mix without even consulting or mentioning it to, or even _warning_ any of us. He's turning on his toes and fleeing."

Booth knew that there was so much to what his wife had just uttered, which could only be described as a rant. But for some reason, he chose to correct her usage of a common phrase, "He turned on his heel Bones."

"What?" She took a deep breath, the wind coming from her sails.

"Turning on his heel and fleeing," Booth repeated, miming running with two fingers, which he 'ran' up her forearm.

-------------------------------

"How'd it go?"

This was the first thing Vivian heard as she opened the door to her apartment. The second was a joyous bark from Einstein, who bounded up to her, tail wagging furiously. Catching the pooch before his exuberant greeting caused her clothing damage; she looked up to see Zack and Jack both seated upon the sofa, some kind of documentary playing on the television.

"So far, so good," Curiously, Vivian tried to see what they were watching, "_Meerkat Manor_?"

"It's quality television programming," Zack asserted quickly, "I enjoy observing the social patterns of animal societies. It's interesting to see how they compare with human patterns."

"Ooookay," Vivian crossed the room, Einstein trotting along at her heels, "How was work at the lab?"

"Couple of skinny dippers found a trunk in a lake. There was a partially decomposed body inside of it," Jack informed her, his tone expressionless, his eyes focused on the TV screen as the small, furry animal stuck its nose from the hole in the ground.

"How lovely," Vivian pulled a grossed out face, and continued through the living room to the hall. Reaching the door to her own room, she stopped suddenly, turned, and stuck her head back into the living room, where neither Jack nor Zack had moved an inch, "Skinny dippers?"


	14. Minions and Memories

**Title:**Minions and Memories

**Summary: **Hodgins feels like a sheep, Brennan feels faint, Booth feels frustrated, Vivian feels like she's looking into a mirror, Diane feels nervous and Zack feels dazed.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own…anything….Not Bones, not anything. Unless you're looking for a few dust bunnies and an unopened game of Monopoly, I've got nothing. Oooh, wait, I've got snow…lots and lots of snow….yeah, I got nothing.

**Author's Notes: **So, here it is…. A new chapter, enjoy, review. That's the procedure. Follow it…. Please… Just to be clear, the italicized/bolded words are a flashback.

And all kinds of thanks and cookies to my beta **Selene Antilles** for all her wonderful suggestions and corrections for this chapter!

**--------------------------**

_**"Doctor Goodman," Brennan began, and Booth couldn't help but notice the tone of distain in his wife's voice, "Has decided that to up the efficiency of the lab, he's going to bring in a department head."**_

They were scattered all around her office.

"What?" Zack spoke as if he hadn't heard right.

"Why?" Angela asked, her voice as puzzled as her expression, "Who? When?"

"Where?" Hodgins threw in sardonically, resulting in an aggravated scowl from Angela, but he plowed on, "This is a deliberate attempt by the," He crooked his fingers as he spoke, "Powers that be to micromanage us and keep us on a tighter rein. We've never needed a department head before, why should we accept having one shoved down our throats now?"

"What do you want to do Jack?" Brennan asked incredulously, "Go on strike?" When that was met with silence, and before Hodgins could jump up and declare war on the administration, she diplomatically continued, "Look, I'm just as displeased about what's going on here as you are. But Doctor Goodman is leaving and we don't have much of a choice," She spoke directly to Jack for this, as where he led, Zack usually followed. "So starting something with the new head is pointless."

In a bit of a snit, Hodgins demanded, "You want us to just fall into line like sheep?"

"No, I want you to-" Bracing her palms on the desk, Brennan took a deep breath, trying to quell her swaying head and rolling stomach.

"Bren?" Angela stood, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder, "Are you okay?"

"I'm," Brennan slowly lowered herself into her chair, a hand on the arm and the other hand holding her temple, "Fine. Just a little light headed."

Hodgins and Zack watched curiously as Angela responded with an unbelieving, "Uh-huh," to their fearless leader's brush off of their concern.

When her head had stopped swaying, Brennan looked up to find one bearded and one clean-shaven face staring back at her, their faces glazed in concern, "I'm fine. Really. It's nothing."

"Are you sure?" Zack spoke slowly, robotically, spacing each word exactly the same.

"Zack," Brennan's voice began as warning, and then changed to her usual brisk tone, "I want you to clean the bones. Check for indentations, disease markers, anything and everything that we might be able to use to give this girl an identity. Pay special attention to the kerf marks on the wrists. Find out what was used to remove the hands. Find out everything you can."

"Yes, Doctor Brennan," Zack replied characteristically, before scurrying from the office.

After Zack had exited, Brennan turned her attention to Hodgins, "Do you have anything to report?"

"Since the trunk was pretty much water tight, I haven't found any insect activity on the remains. But rate of decomp suggests that the victim was in the trunk for approximately two weeks. I'm running the water samples as we speak," Hodgins replied promptly.

"Good," Brennan dismissed him, and after trading a look with Angela, he left.

--------------------------

A soft, almost nervous knock sounded from the door and Vivian looked up from the work scattered across her desk to see a petite girl. She'd have been pretty if her face hadn't been caked with garishly dark make-up. She was far too pale, as if the girl hadn't seen sunlight in her entire life. Her obviously dyed black hair hung straight to her shoulders and over her face. It was as if she was hiding behind it.

"Hi," Vivian quickly gathered the papers she had strewn over her desk, and shuffled them back into their file, "C'mon in. Have a seat."

The girl stepped into the office quietly, and eased the door shut behind her. She slowly lowered herself into a chair that stood alone on the opposite side of the desk. Vivian offered a small smile that she hoped was welcoming, but the girl didn't return the gesture. She simply sat in the chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

"My name is Vivian Booth," Vivian began slowly; "You can call me Vivian, if you want. Or Viv, I'm not really that picky."

The girl remained silent, only a jerky nod to acknowledge that she'd heard. Long beats ticked by, the only sound in the room the obnoxious ticking of the wall clock and of Vivian's pen tapping lightly against her desk.

-------------------------------

Upon entering the Jeffersonian, the first of his unofficial team Booth came across was Hodgins.

"What'cha got for me Bug boy?" Booth asked, balancing a hand on his hip and fussing with his suit jacket.

"Bacterium," Hodgins held up a test tube of water and gave it a swish, "They're fairly common, found in bodies of fresh water. Just like where the body was recovered. It was the same for the plant life found on the trunk. I also found particulates of fecal matter, from the local wildlife."

Frustrated, Booth rolled his shoulders back, stretching the tightening muscles, "You get anything off the trunk?"

"I'm working on the trunk next," Hodgins indicated with an elbow to the black trunk with rusted hinges and latches; the plant life that had draped it now removed, "Maybe it's got the goods."

"Sure," Booth squinted at the tube of water, wondering how Hodgins found that kind of thing fascinating, "Keep at it," He instructed, turning to go.

"Speaking of ordinary," Hodgins rushed out, and Booth turned back, awaiting Hodgins to continue. Momentarily, the bearded man did, after blowing out a heavy sigh, "Or, the rather not so ordinary. Brennan wasn't feeling so hot first thing this morning," Hodgins reported, feeling somewhat like that guy in high school, reporting back to his friend about the guy's girlfriend, "Kind of almost fainted man, right in the middle of telling me to leave the new figure head alone," He made a scoffing sound, "Then she caught her breath and finished lecturing."

"Probably good advice," Booth informed him dryly, "Bones okay?"

"So she says" Hodgins shrugged as if to say _what did you expect?_ "Maybe she's tired or something. Been keeping late nights huh man?"

A sly grin was met with an annoyed glare and a gruff, "You fishing for details or somethin'?"

As his friend walked away, predictably in the direction of his wife's office, Hodgins chortled to himself. After replacing the test tube he'd initially showed Booth in its holder, he stripped off his gloves and snapped on a fresh pair before turning his attention to the trunk.

----------------------------------

Vivian sighed, confused as to why the girl had come to see her, "Is there something that you want to talk about? Anything I can help you with?"

The girl was silent for a bit longer, before she heaved a sigh, and then finally, she spoke, "Mr. Deluca, he said that I should come and introduce myself to the new social worker when they got here."

Mr. Deluca, Ned, had been the previous social worker at the center, Vivian realized immediately. She hadn't met him, but by all accounts, he was a good man, good at his job, and the kids liked him. It would be interesting to see how they adapted to her in his place, "Okay, sounds like a plan. What's your name honey?"

"Tori Spencer," Tori pushed at the stringy hair that fell over her face, but it did little good, as the hair quickly reasserted its position in her eyes again.

"Hi Tori," Vivian quickly scribbled the girl's name on a pad of paper she kept handy, a reminder for herself to check for her file, "What's up?"

"Nothing much. Never is," Tori responded gloomily.

"Okay," _What to say, what to say?_ Vivian wondered, usually she was never at a loss for words, but at that moment, her tongue was tied, "How did Mr. Deluca do things?"

"I came to see Mr. Deluca every Wednesday," Tori informed Vivian, picking at the hangnail on her right thumb, "Just to talk about stuff."

Vivian scribbled this onto her pad too, "So, do you want to keep doing that with me? Would that be alright with you?"

The girl was slow to agree, but nodded all the same, "Okay."

Vivian could see the girl needed someone to talk to, about anything, "Sounds good," She displayed a demure smile, "Was there anything that you wanted to talk about today?"

Tori flinched and then hissed in pain as she ripped off the hangnail. Vivian offered her the box of tissues that had sat on one corner of her desk, to blot the beads of blood that were beginning to stain the teenager's skin. Tori twisted a tissue around her thumb; almost like a tourniquet, "Nope, I'm going to go see if there are any band-aids in the kit."

Without another word, Tori lifted herself from the chair and exited Vivian's office. The girl did pause, just inside the doorway and offered a wave, but then she was gone.

------------------------------

"Afternoon Bones," Brennan knew Booth was lurking behind her before he said a word.

"Booth," She turned, her tone all business, but she flashed a tiny smile that he returned.

"Got anything for me?"

"I might," She replied, going back to her work table, "Zack was able to identify the instrument used to remove the hands. It was a run-of-the-grist circular saw."

"Run-of-the-mill Bones," Booth nearly laughed when she looked at him,

"What'd I say?"

He glossed over it, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, the trunk was about four feet long by two feet wide. The victim was five foot six and on her right side, which means the assailant had to force the body into the trunk," Brennan pushed both hands downward, palms down to emphasize her point, "Causing damage to the patella, tibia and fibula bones; as well as causing a break between the C5 and C6 vertebrae. There's also bone erosion to the clavicle, the scapula and hip on her right side."

"Cause of death?"

"I've been reconstructing the skull with what pieces we have," She crossed to a counter, and carefully picked up a piece of the splintered skull, "You see this?" Brennan indicated the rust colored stain that discolored the piece of bone.

Booth stared blankly first at the piece of bones and then at his wife, "Is that blood?"

"Uh huh. And the only way blood could end up here on the inside of the bone would be a direct, forceful blow to the base of the skull. But this isn't what killed her," Brennan replaced the skull fragment on the stainless steel tray, while Booth watched, confused.

"It isn't?"

"The blow to the base of the skull caused significant damage, but it didn't kill our victim," Brennan collected herself, hating what she had to impart, "It would have knocked the victim to the ground, unconscious and unresponsive; but the victim didn't die until the killer began smashing away at her face."

Booth swallowed hard, trying to swallow the disgusted and furious reaction to her discoveries, "You're saying that she was alive when this prick started bashing her face in?"

"Yes," Brennan replied definitely. She turned back to the counter and lifted a clear, plastic specimen dish, "We removed these from the bone fragments. They were also lodged in the remaining skin in the hands."

Booth peered at the cup she held and holding her wrist, tilted the dish to get a better look at what it contained, "What is it?"

She rattled off a scientific sounding explanation, and he just stared at her, "In normal English Bones."

"It's pressure treated spruce; with a Pentox coating. It's a preservative, used to keep the wood from rotting." Brennan explained, "Normal enough for you?"

"Ye-ah," Booth stretched out the word, grinning in spite of her little dig, "Pressure treated spruce is commonly used, it could be from anything, construction site, home renovations, even a hardware store." Booth reached into his pocket, and removed the die he kept there, and began rolling it in his fingers, "We've got nothing. No face, no hands, nothing that signifies this."

"We'll find something Seeley," Brennan assured, returning the specimen dish with the wood slivers to the table, and motioning to the bone fragments and the wood, "If it's not here, then we'll find it. I've got Angela running the victim's genetic markers through missing persons; maybe something will come up from that. If we can get a DNA sample from the matches," Brennan trailed off, knowing that it was a long shot; who knew how many hits they could get on a young woman, between twenty-two and twenty-seven years old, of African American descent.

He nodded, still rolling his talisman in his fingers, then closing his hand around it, "We'll see," He replied, then changed the subject, "I talked to Hodgins on the way in."

"Oh?" Brennan turned her back to him, apparently inspecting something on the tray in front of her.

"Yeah," Booth tossed the die in the air and caught it in a swooping motion of his right hand before asking, "You okay?"

Brennan ran her gloved finger along the jagged edge of the ulna, turning it carefully in her hand and looking at it from several directions as she answered, "I'm fine. Hodgins didn't have to tell you."

Booth resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh heavily, "Bones, the squints are going to tell me if something's wrong with you."

"They shouldn't do that just because we're married now," Brennan tossed off, still examining the bones. Booth wasn't sure he should inform her that her squints would report to him if something about Brennan was off or wrong whether they were married or not. Angela and Hodgins especially, believing Booth held some key to unlocking the forensic anthropologist's guarded heart. Zack still went from talking to Booth, and being nervous around him.

"Bones," He began, but replacing the ulna on the table with the rest of the skeleton, she turned; removing her gloves and interrupted,

"No, Seeley. I'm fine," Brennan put a hand on his wrist from where he had leaned against the bars that surrounded the platform and the work stations, "And call off your minions, I don't like being spied on while I'm trying to do my job Booth."

"They're not my minions Bones," Booth was startled into a half laugh, "They're more yours than mine."

"Not if they run to you with every little thing that happens," She retorted.

"Okay, so it's more like shared custody," He teased, receiving a characteristic, patented Bones stare.

Booth gave in; nodding in a figure eight motion, "Alright, Bones. I won't ask 'em. Unless it's serious."

"Alright," She squeezed his wrist and released, knowing that he was as stubborn as she was. Knocking her shoulder against his, "It wasn't serious."

He looked sideways at her, the concern evident on his face, "Sure?"

A single dip of her head signaled her acquiescence, "Sure."

------------------------------------

"Oh, hey Zack," Diane waved to the approaching forensic anthropologist, "How are you?"

"Hi Diane," Zack returned, nerves pricking. They had barely spoken since the kiss, which had been two weeks before; an odd hello in the hallway, a tight smile or awkward wave, but that was all. "I'm okay. Uh, you?"

"I'm good," Diane smiled nervously. The two stood facing each other, but not speaking. Diane tugged at the ends of her purple streaked hair; Zack pulled at the cuffs of the sleeves on his shirt, while rocking on the balls of his feet, "You been busy?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah, Booth brought us a new case," Zack tried to still his fidgeting, "You?"

Diane rattled off a description of her latest project and the two fell silent once again. It was awkward, them both standing there, unsure as to what to say. Diane swallowed, mustered up her courage, and said what she had wanted to say, "I-I was wondering, that maybe you might want to go out, on a date, with me sometime."

"Go-go out?" Zack stuttered, and then asked stupidly, "Like a date?"

Diane was just as nervous as when she replied, "Ye-yeah, like a date."

"Um, well, I," Zack was stuttering again, but was saved from answering by the sudden beeping of the alarm on Diane's watch.

"My experiment's just about finished, I have to get back," She said as way of explanation. Pressing a button on her watch, the beeping ceased, and a pen appeared, "Here, in case you decide or whatever."

Before he knew it, his sleeve was pushed up and the pen made contact with his skin. Seven numbers were jotted onto the inside of his forearm with a flourish, and then with smile as she capped her pen, Diane left, presumably in the direction of her experiment.

It took Zack a moment to gather his thoughts. Staring down at his ink-scribbled-skin, he tugged his sleeve back down over his arm and began to walk in the direction he was facing.

He'd forgotten where he was going.

------------------------------------

It took Vivian a few minutes to locate the teenager's file. But then it was in her grasp, and seconds later, open on her desk.

_Victoria Spencer, fifteen years-old._

Deluca's notes were taken in a neat, block letter handwriting. Under the heading _Family_ Vivian read, feeling déjà vu.

_Sister was killed as result of a robbery at a convenience store where she was employed. Parents have been withdrawn, uncommunicative, and unemotional from and towards Tori since the incident in 2005. Tori exhibits signs of depression, guilt, and feelings of unworthiness. Tori is quiet, withdrawn, quite intelligent, perceptive and sensitive._

Reading the file in its entirety once; Vivian then closed the folder atop the pages and leaned back in her chair. Rubbing her hand softly over the tab, Vivian imagined her own file, back in Pittsburg, stashed away by a social worker; at the back of a filing cabinet or at the bottom of a box, in a storage room where all the old, no-longer-used cases were kept. She couldn't help but remember that afternoon eight years ago when she'd slipped away without her parents noticing. They had continued to not notice until Seeley returned to the house for a visit he'd long been promising her, and found her gone.

Vivian was so absorbed in her memories that she didn't notice Katherine's appearance in the door Tori had left open, "Vivian, honey, you okay?" Katherine knocked softly on the doorframe to catch her new friend's attention. She couldn't help but notice Viv's introspective and somewhat depressive mood.

"Oh, hey," Vivian's expression instantly shut and she began stacking papers on her desk, just to be doing something, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Katherine could see that Vivian was neither ready, nor willing to talk about whatever had caused her to phase out like that, "Okay. I'll see you later then."

"Yeah," Vivian could see the concern on Katherine's face and forced a small, reassuring smile on her own, "See you later."

----------------------------


	15. Decisions, Decisions

**Title: **Decisions, Decisions

**Summary: **Zack makes a decision, Vivian and Hodgins connect, Sid advises Angela, and Brennan and Booth relax.

**Disclaimer: **I borrowed them. Bones _et al_ belong to other people, I'm just having fun.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, here's Chapter 15. And yes, they are watching _Star Trek: Enterprise_. I am such a geek.

Thanks again to my awesome beta Selene for all her input! You rock girl

-------------------------------

It was late evening when Zack arrived home. He'd been at the lab later than Dr. Brennan who'd instructed gently before she'd left, "Go home. We'll come back tomorrow; look at it with fresh eyes." He'd remained for another hour to be sure the bones were properly cleaned andarranged anatomicallyon the lighted worktable. He'd collected the printed crime scene photos and delivered the thumb drive that contained their digital counterparts to Angela for her to work her magic on. Not that Zack believed in magic, but the cliché fit.

It was odd that neither Einstein nor Vivian were anywhere to be found as Zack wandered through the apartment to the kitchen. But a newly arrived splotch of orange on the refrigerator caught his attention. A post-it with Vivian's handwriting on it was affixed to the door,

_Zack._

_Went for a run.__Took Einstein with me._

_Viv_

That explained their absence, he decided, pulling open the door of the fridge. Front and center on the top shelf was a plate of rice with a piece of chicken, wrapped in plastic wrap. Zack instinctively reached for it, and then pulled back, wondering if Vivian was saving it for when she returned. That was until he saw another post-it, a purple one this time, hanging from the plate.

_Go ahead. :) _

Zack chortled, and removed the plate, pivoting and sticking it into the microwave. It was nice not to have a frozen TV dinner once again. Living with a big family, Zack learned to cook when he was little, assisting with the family's meals. But now, when he had been living a solitary existence for some time, he rarely cooked; opting for the quick-and-easy frozen dinner-in-a-box. After spending the bulk of a day at the lab, he usually didn't feel like preparing anything to eat alone.

Maybe he was eating alone tonight, and that was alright, but he wasn't cooking for one anymore. And finding a covered plate in the refrigerator made for him every once and a while was nice, it showed there was someone around who cared. This was something that he had missed since moving away from Michigan, away from his boisterous, all-consuming family. Of course he knew that the family he'd found here cared about him; Hodgins, Angela, Dr. Brennan, Booth, and now Vivian. But it was the little things. Someone knowing where you left your keys. Someone leaving a plate in the fridge for you. Someone who set the coffee timer foryour wake-up call instead of theirs.Little things.

The microwave beeped, announcing it was finished. Carefully, he took the plate from the microwave and, grinning, seated himself at the table, and duginto his dinner.

It wasn't long before noise started coming from the door, and then the frenzied scratching of Einstein's nails as he rushed from room to room until the canine burst into the kitchen, and greeted Zack with a sloppy doggy grin.

Vivian followed at a slower pace, murmuring, "Crazy fool dog." Entering the kitchen, she offered Zack a dim smile, "Hey."

"Hey, thank-you for dinner," He returned, smiling, "Again."

"No problem," Vivian crossed the room, stepping carefully around Einstein, whose tail was currently employed in sweeping the floor, and opened the refrigerator door. She rummaged through it before coming up with a water bottle. Uncapping it, she drank a third of its contents without stopping, and then offered a weak joke, "Just don't get too used to it dude."

"I won't," Zack popped a forkful into his mouth, and then used his index finger to trace an 'x' over the left side of his chest, just below his shoulder, "Cross my heart," The words came out muffled as he talked around the food tucked into his cheek.

Vivian chuckled at him, but Zack noticed the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. He was working his way up to asking her about it when she quickly capped the bottle of water and announced, "I'm going to go get cleaned up."

Zack only nodded this time, watching as his roommate exited the room. He looked down to Einstein, who stared back at him with watery brown eyes.

-----------------------------------

"Bones? What are you watching?" Booth asked dubiously as he entered the room to find his wife seemingly transfixed on a program on the 'newly discovered' television.

"I believe it's called _Enterprise_," His wife replied, not taking her eyes off the screen, "It's supposedly the latest addition to the _Star Trek _series."

"Cool, this one's good," Booth planted himself beside her, "What's going on?"

Brennan looked at him curiously as the show cut to commercial, "All the men on the ship have fallen victim to some sort of pheromone projected by green women who don't wear much clothing."

Booth snorted, "I see."

"You'd think they would be cold," Brennan observed, "All the other characters are wearing long sleeved uniforms while the three green women are wearing what looks to be loincloths."

"Maybe the green ladies have got a different kind of temperature regulating system than humans do," Booth suggested, draping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her to rest against his side.

"Perhaps," Brennan conceded, resting her head against his shoulder as his arm wove around her. The show returned from commercial and the two fell silent as it continued. As an exchange between the doctor, the captain, and chief engineer played on the screen, she spoke again, "That's what I don't understand. If the entire population of the ship is effected, how is that character impervious to it?"

"Because he and the first officer have some kind of telepathic link going on," Booth explained, having seen the episode before, "And she's protecting him, with her _mind_."

"What?" Confused, Brennan glanced between him and the screen, "How could she be mentally protecting him?"

"Just watch and see Bones," Booth replied, leaning his cheek against the top of her head, "Just watch and see."

The next scene broke, and the first officer character and the chief engineer character exchanged some sort of banter, as she explained to him why he was not being affected by the pheromones. They had had some sort of relationship, Brennan decided, and it had ended strangely. This she deducted from the engineer's line of _we did not mate_ and the first officer's return of _uh-huh_. A _fling_. That was the word she came up with; Angela's voice in her head. Something that had been initially no-strings-attached; but had ended up wound in emotions.

"See what I meant?" Booth asked at the next commercial break.

"She loves him," was Brennan's quiet answer.

------------------------------------

He was bored. Bored right out of his bloody tree. And that was saying something. The worst part of it was that even though he knew there were things that he _could _do; watch _The Godfather_ for the 27th time; read his new gardening book that had arrived in the mail the day before; watch television, go for a walk, even catch up on some paper work…there were many things that he _could _do. But he didn't _want_ to do any of them.

Deciding to jog up the stairs that led to the apartment above his garage, Hodgins did just that, rapping smartly on the door. He didn't expect to be greeted by a downtrodden girl, her expression impenetrable, clad in sweats.

"Hey Curly," She moved aside to allow him entrance, gathering her hair and twisting it into a messy bun, "What's going on?" With a swing of her elbow and push of her foot, the door was shut.

"Though I'd see what you were up to," Hodgins flopped onto the couch, a grin blossoming over his face, "So. What are you doing?"

More gracefully, Vivian curled herself into the opposite end of the couch; tucking a pillow into her lap, "Reading," She answered, indicating the manila file folder on the coffee table, her professional-looking messenger bag propped against it, "Still playing catch-up."

Jack nodded, "Anything interesting?"

Vivian appeared thoughtful for a moment, then asked out-of-the-blue, "You ever wonder what your life would have been like if you'd had different parents?"

"What do you mean?" Hodgins asked, wondering where the question was coming from.

"Family life and parents in particular have significant effects on the emotional and psychological development," Vivian rattled off, as if from a textbook, "Ergo, your parents and the way you were raised has bearings on what kind of person someone grows up to be," She fiddled with the hem of her top, "Do you ever wonder, what you life might have been like if you didn't grow up the way you did?"

"Sometimes," Hodgins admitted slowly, pondering what could have prompted the discussion and the introspective and melancholy mood in his sprite-like friend, "I see a dark basement, with my bug collection on the wall next to a poster for some conspiracy theory."

That elicited a trademark, obviously hereditary, Booth incredulous look, "You have that basement now."

"Yeah," Hodgins conceded, "But I would be living in that basement."

---------------------------

She'd never been here by herself before.

She'd been to Wong Foos more times than she wanted to count, but she had never been alone. She was always in Bren's company, with Booth either fixed at the counter or into the corner seat of the booth they'd all share. Or Zack and Jack, with their own brand of banter, installed on the other side of the booth. She'd even brought a date or two here, but she'd never spent time here alone.

Angela sighed, slipping her purse strap from her shoulder; laying it on the counter. She surveyed the room, listening to the quiet din, and realized she was the only one sitting alone. That in no way helped her mood.

"What's a gorgeous lady like you doing in a place like this all by yourself?"

"Oh," Her head jerked up from where she'd been staring at her purse to find Sid behind the counter, palms planted firmly on the counter as he peered down at her, "Yeah, I'm on my own tonight."

"There's a first," Sid said, more of an observation than a statement.

"Ye-ah," Angela agreed quickly, "I seem to be spending quite a bit of time on my own lately."

"Having a rough one?" Sid asked, grabbing a bottle from under the counter and popping the cork before hooking a glass from behind him and pouring her a glass of wine.

"Something like that," She acknowledged, "Not that I could begrudge Bren a second spent with a husband as hot and as sweet as Booth. But they've been attached at the hip. There's this girl in paleontology who's got a crush on Zack, which surprises me, because, I mean, it's Zack," Angela said as if the young man's name explained it all, "And Hodgins and Zack are completely enamored with Booth's little sister."

"Vivian?" Sid smiled, "She's a character."

"Yeh see?" Angela took a large sip of her wine, before setting the glass on the counter and running her fingertip over the rim, "They've all paired off like shoes."

"And you're left without a mate huh?" Sid hid a laugh at her 'people paired like shoes' comparison, "Maybe you're just looking too hard."

Angela looked up from where she'd been dragging her finger over a gouge in the countertop, "Whaddya mean?"

-------------------------

"What did you say baby?" Booth asked, sure he hadn't actually heard what he thought he heard.

"She loves him," Brennan repeated soundly.

"How can you tell?" He pondered, looking from his wife's face to the character's expressionless one on screen, "I mean, the engineer's feelings are written all over his face, but hers."

Brennan took a deep breath, "She's afraid of being in love with him, so she's acting aloof and blocking him out."

"Uh, Bones, she's a Vulcan, they all do that," Booth tried to explain, but Brennan jumped in,

"It was what I tried to do with you."

And it was true. The back-and-forth, the constant tension, the push-pull, get close and then back away nature of their relationship had been present since the beginning. But over the course of their partnership; as they grew to respect, know, and like each other, it had blossomed between them. Without their noticing at first; but not escaping most anybody else's. Moments flashed in her memory, new and old. The Christmas kisses in her office, the tree outside of the prison gates; hooked to a car battery. One's appearance whenever and whenever the other needed. Their unfailing belief in each other; even if they didn't understand how the other did what they did. Moments of them together now; as husband and wife, still partners, but in a whole different perception. Everything that had been built between them had grown; bringing them to this point. The point where they were able to admit they loved each other; that for Brennan, kissing Booth was nothing like kissing her brother.

This confession stopped him cold, and he gaped at his wife, "You tried to block me out?"

"I didn't say I was very good at it." Her response caused them both to break into smiles.

"Ah, Bones," Booth murmured, looping both of his arms around her tightly, pressing kisses onto the crown of her head.

--------------------------

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Hodgins' voice startled her from her reverie, "What?"

He gazed at his waify friend; tight burgundy sweats on legs she hugged to her chest, the arms that wrapped tightly around them in a white hooded sweater. She looked vulnerable, and at the moment, very young. He slid over on the sofa to sit closer to her, "What's wrong Viv?"

Vivian drew her arms tighter around her knees, tilting her head slightly to look at him, "I'm okay Curly, just thinking." And she was. But the subject matter of her thoughts made her depressed and retrospective.

"About what?" He stretched his arm out and drew her in close beside him, cushioning her with himself.

"All kinds of things," She lied vaguely. Truthfully, her thoughts were centered on a few closely related, tightly interwoven subjects.

"Like what?" Hodgins prompted. He wasn't sure she would tell him, nor was he sure how long or how hard he would (or could) push. But he could tell something was wrong, ever since she'd answered the door, he could tell. Had something happened? Now, today, or years ago? Slowly, before she answered, before she said another word, Vivian began to shake, "Viv? Are you okay?"

"I had a brother," Vivian murmured, rolling her neck to try and relieve the tension that had been building there all day.

"I know," Hodgins reminded her quietly, "I work with him almost every day."

"I said _had a brother_. If I was talking about Seeley, I would have said _I have a brother_," Vivian clarified with a certain edge to her voice.

Hodgins was amazed, "You have another brother?"

"Not have, had. He died. A long time ago," She brought her face up, expression bleak, "Almost twenty-three years ago."

Quick mental calculation brought Hodgins to a startling conclusion, "When you were a baby?"

-----------------------

The tip of his tongue sticking out between pursed lips, Zack carefully glued the last piece of his perfectly scale model of a large German shepherd dog.

As strange as some would find it, building models of dogs was what Zack did in his spare time. The focus and attention to detail required as he placed each piece in its appropriate place helped him clear his mind of whatever plagued or cluttered it. He'd started doing it in middle school, when the differences between himself and the other kids had become painfully clear and too hard to ignore.

With steady hands, Zack lifted the board on which his model resided from his work table, and placed in higher up. There was a shelf in the room he called his 'office', lined with models Zack had built over the years, and there were still more stored in boxes in his parents' attic back in Michigan. He placed his newly completed specimen up out of the way, out of the reach of Einstein and his occasionally destructive tail.

Deciding that it was time for him to emerge from his room and deciding he wanted a glass of chocolate milk; Zack pushed open the door to his sanctuary. He meandered down the hallway; stopping to adjust a picture frame that had been knocked askew. As he stopped at the end of the hallway, he could see into the living room. He blinked a few times, and took a few steps back ward at what he saw.

Hodgins was sitting on the living room couch, his arms wrapped around Vivian who, it looked to Zack, was sitting in Hodgins' lap. Their heads were bent together, and he could see neither of their faces. Hodgins' hands slowly moved across her back. He blinked rapidly, and slowly backed down the path he'd just taken, until he was safely ensconced in his room.

That had been unexpected. This thought floated through his mind, and Zack couldn't help but snort. Quickly sobering, he sat down on the roll-away chair by his desk. Vivian and Hodgins. Vivian-and-Hodgins. VivianandHodgins. How long had they? When did they? Questions whirled in his mind, but Zack found he couldn't put a voice to them.

His sleeve sagged, and Zack could see the strokes of ink that marked his skin. He shoved his sleeve up further, reading the numbers over three times before coming to a decision. Uncharacteristic, was his next action, but with a strange and sudden burst of courage, Zack pushed himself up from his chair and picked up the telephone from his desk.

Picking up the phone, he punched the digits into the number pad. It rang a few times before the person on the end picked up,

"Hello?"

"Hello," He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, "Diane, it's me, Zack. I was wondering if you were still interested in that date."

----------------------

Angela stared across the bar at Sid, who swiped a glass dry and returned it to its place on the shelf before answering, "If you're always searching for something, how's it going to find you?"

"What?" Angela gathered her hand into a thick ponytail at the back of her skull, and then released her hair to fall down her back in waves, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does," Sid reached for another glass, calmly wiping the beads of water from its surface. He finished cleaning that glass and two others before speaking again, "Look, you want the happiness and the connection that the Bone Lady and Booth have, right?"

"Yeah," Angela replied instantly, holding her friends' romance up as a standard. She began to imagine finding her own FBI-Agent-in-standard-issue-body-armor.

"You can't have it," Sid decisively cut her theory off at the knees; "You have to find your own kind of connection. You can't force it; it has to happen on its own, on its own timetable. Sometimes," He paused, refilling her glass before continuing, "The more you try to force it the more it runs away. You just got to let it flow lady, because once you stop looking for it," Again he paused, and Angela, while hanging on every word, was beginning to wonder if he timed his pauses for dramatic effect. Just as she was about to order him to get on with it already he finished, "It'll find you."

"It'll find you," Angela repeated softly as Sid retreated from the bar to greet customers that had just entered. Mulling over all Sid had told her, the last line stuck with her the best, "It'll find you."

-----------------------

Booth leaned back against the headboard, and watched as his wife entered and exited, and then entered their room again as she prepared for bed, "Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Flipping back the blankets, she crawled in beside him, "I'm fine," She replied flippantly, pecking a kiss on his lips before turning back onto her side of the bed; facing away from him. Stuffing her arm up under her pillow, Brennan pulled the blankets over her shoulder, "Good night Seeley."

Puzzled by her quick dismissal, Booth's hand on her arm rolled her onto her back and he planted his arm at her side to prevent her from rolling back, "That's it?"

"What's it?" She stared up at him innocently.

"Good night?" Booth repeated, squinting at her, "That's all you've got?"

"I don't know what you mean," She curled a hand around his forearm, actually not understanding his meaning until his mouth met hers. Leisurely, thoroughly he kissed her, keeping his hands to himself; one remained on the bed beside her, the other arm was bent at the elbow and pressed to his pillow; using only his lips, tongue, and teeth to stimulate and excite.

Brennan sighed pleasurably, but as she went to curl her arms around his neck, he pulled his lips from hers. Depositing a chaste kiss on her forehead; he dropped back onto his side of their bed, muttering with a grin she couldn't see but _knew_ existed, "Good night babe."

It wasn't long before a small but strong fist connected with the side of his bicep. Suppressing the grin, Booth rolled over to face her, "Ow," Propping his cheek in his hand, he stared down at her, "Did you need something?""You're a tease," She informed him bluntly.

Booth choked back a snicker, "Me?"

A well placed shove to the center of his chest, and Booth flopped onto his back. Dragging her fingernails ever-so-gently down his chest and over his belly, she affirmed, "Yes you." Straddling his lean hips; her fingers ventured lower, and she enjoyed his shaky breaths as she traced the jagged scar that was usually hidden by the waistband of his jeans.

Smoothing his hands up her sides, pushing the tank top she wore up as they climbed higher, Booth smirked, "I'm the tease?"

"Uh huh," Brennan grinned back, "You."

With a guttural growl, Booth grabbed his wife and twisted until she was lying pinned beneath him. He watched as she giggled, gently drawing his hand through her auburn hair, "We'll see about that," He whispered before covering her mouth with his own.


	16. The Passing of the Administrative Torch

**Title: **The Passing of the Administrative Torch

**Summary: **The new department head is introduced and she has a surprising connection with one or two members of the collective team. _Dun, dun, dunnnnnn!_

**Disclaimer: **Bones is the property of FOX and affiliates; I'm only borrowing 'em for a bit.

**Author's Notes: **I suck. I fully and completely admit it. I suck. I completely abandoned this story; letting it fall by the wayside.

My excuses? That after the whole mess with Zack being the Gormagon's apprentice, I was just so put off by the whole thing (though I love most of the "interns") that I didn't want to work on something that featured him so prominently as a character. And then I got caught up in the madness that is RL, and _then_ I picked up another story or two, and _then_, well, and then this one managed to sneak past me and I wasn't sure just what to do with it.

I hope that you're not disappointed with this chapter, and hopefully (*crosses fingers*) the next few chapters will be quicker in coming. Of course, anything would be quicker than the dormant state this story has been in previously. A huge thank-you to everybody who reviewed even though I'd abandoned this story! Those reminders were what I needed to get going on it again.

---------------

"May I have everyone's attention for a moment?" Doctor Goodman stood in the center of the platform; a tall woman with appraising dark eyes, no nonsense business attire, and her hair pulled back, standing ramrod straight beside him.

Zack and Angela turned, but Hodgins, being stubborn, and Brennan, absorbed in what she was studying, ignored or remained oblivious to Goodman's call to attention.

"I realize you're all dedicated at your work," Goodman's voice carried his administrative tone, "But the sooner you listen to my announcement, the sooner you can get back to whatever has you so fascinated."

Brennan looked up from her work, awaiting him to proceed and Hodgins, with a sharp nudge in the side from Angela begrudgingly focused his eyes on his boss.

"As I'm sure you've all been informed, I am taking a leave of absence from the Jeffersonian for the time being," Goodman began, "And before I go, I have appointed a new head of Forensics to oversee this portion of the medico-legal lab. Therefore, everyone, this is Doctor Camille Saroyan," Goodman swept his hand palm up to indicate the squints who watched him carefully, pointing out each of them in turn, "Doctor Saroyan, this is Doctor Hodgins, Doctor Addy, and Miss Montenegro, and you remember Doctor Brennan."

"Hi," Saroyan began, with a severe jerk of her hand as a wave, "I'm glad to be here, and I look forward to working alongside each of you. I hope that you can learn to trust and value my work here, just as you have Doctor Goodman's."

"I trust that you will all treat Doctor Saroyan with the same respect and deference that you would me," Doctor Goodman intoned, choosing to ignore the suspicious sounding snort emanating from Hodgins' direction, "I am glad to have had the pleasure and the privilege of working with each of you."

--------------------

The three of them sat silently in Sweets' office; Brennan and Booth on the sofa, Sweets on the chair directly in front of them. While Brennan and even Sweets sat comfortably in the silence; Booth wasn't so lucky as the muscled FBI Agent fidgeted incessantly.

His knee had started bouncing upon sitting down, and it was driving his wife crazy.

"Stop that," She admonished in a hushed voice, clamping a hand on the offending appendage.

"Sorry," He mouthed, grimacing.

"Nervous Agent Booth?" Sweets asked as if the answer was of no consequence, despite the tinge of smugness in his tone.

"Uneasy," Booth replied with a glare aimed directly for the young psychiatrist, "Which is all your fault."

"You know he hates sitting in silence," Brennan added, her hand still blocking his knee from jiggling again.

"You weren't talking either," Sweets was quick to point out, and Brennan argued,

"Because you resent the loss of control within your environment."

"I resent," Sweets began, chagrined, and Brennan finished for him,

"You feel usurped. You get," She paused, searching for the appropriate word, and her husband supplied it with a trace of that same smugness Sweets had just carried,

"Touchy, Bones. He gets touchy."

"Exactly," Brennan nodded succinctly, and Booth leaned back and directed his speech to her,

"He feels threatened by our magnitude."

"We are very magnamous," Brennan agreed; the two of them trading restrained tight-lipped smiles.

Sweets rolled his eyes, realizing they had hijacked the session again. Grinning more to himself than anything or anyone else, he brought their attention back around with a sure-fire attention-grabber,

"So, I guess this really is _couples counseling_ now eh?"

Brennan rolled her eyes, and Booth shifted himself in his seat on the sofa and continued to pin the younger man with a glare that would send most off to quake in their boots. Though inwardly intimidated, Sweets outwardly continued to project that little smile that he knew drove Booth near insane.

--------------------

"Lunch time!" Zack announced, dragging off his latex gloves with a snap. Glancing over his shoulder, he begrudgingly asked Hodgins, "You coming?"

"I'm in," Angela agreed quickly, pushing her chair so it rolled away from the desk she'd been working at, "Hodgins?"

But Hodgins' attention was diverted as he caught sight of a pretty brunette being directed to the waiting area not far off by Nelson, the nervous security guard, "Can't," Hodgins snapped off his own gloves, and began to shuck his lab coat. As he disappeared around a corner, presumably to get his jacket, he called over his shoulder, "I've got plans. See you guys later."

"Yeah, okay," Angela waved to his back, "Bye."

"Vivian," She heard Zack murmur off at his side, and it clicked with her; the sister, _Booth's sister_. Hodgins had plans with Booth's sister? Pushing it from her mind, Angela placed a hand on Zack's shoulder, squeezing gently,

"C'mon Zack," She gently began to pull him away, "Let's go get something to eat."

Jacket in hand, he jogged up the stairs to the lounge where Nelson had reluctantly left her to wait, "Hey you," Hodgins grinned, kissing her cheek and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you ready?" Vivian asked her own smile in place.

"Yeah," Giving her shoulders a quick squeeze, Hodgins pulled his arm back and shrugged on his jacket, "Royal Diner on 5th?"

"Sounds good," She agreed, linking her arm through his.

-----------------------------------

Zack grumbled to himself as he stuck his requisite container of macaroni and cheese into the staff lounge microwave. He shut the microwave door too hard, and it swung back, hitting him in the arm. He tried to shut it again, angry, and the swinging door returned harder; this time catching the young doctor in the chest.

To Angela, it looked as if Zack was having some kind of spasm as he tried to work the microwave. He was now flailing at the swinging door as he continued to do battle with the appliance. Shaking her head and wondering what could have possibly inspired a _fight to the death_ with the microwave, Angela got up from her chair a few feet away from Zack and his struggles.

"Zack," She called, but he ignored or didn't hear her, "Zack!"

It took the young anthropologist to finally stop being attacked, or attacking the microwave and look over at her. Stepping between him and the renegade appliance, Angela softly closed the door, both of them listening for the dull _click_ as it latched. Zack looked defeated as he turned away and headed for a chair at the same table Angela had originally been seated at.

"How long?" Angela asked, through the soft beeping as she pressed a few buttons.

"What?" Zack asked, making it obvious he wasn't listening, and making Angela all the more curious as to what was bothering him this badly.

"How long?" When he still looked bewildered, she sighed, "How long do you cook this for?"

"A couple of minutes," He said, propping his chin in his hand and slumping his shoulders.

Pressing a few more buttons on the panel, the microwave buzzed to life and Angela turned and leaned back against the cabinets, her hands on the counter top, "Alright Zack-attack, what's eating you?"

----------------------------------

"Meet the new head today?" Vivian asked curiously, stabbing a piece of lettuce from her salad. Hodgins nodded; his mouth full of cheeseburger. While he chewed, Vivian calmly sipped her drink before questioning, "First impressions?"

Dramatically swallowing, Hodgins began with, "She's hot."

She shook her head, "You are _such_ a fourteen-year-old boy."

"Hey," Shrugging, he pointed at her with a limp French fry, "You asked for _first _impressions."

Vivian rolled her eyes, and brandishing her fork in his direction, asked, "Did you at least get her name perv-boy?"

"Of course I did," Hodgins replied with pretend offense, "It's Doctor, uh, Doctor. Um, Sa-something," His face was puzzled as he tried to pull the name from the recesses of his mind, "It's definitely Doctor Sa-something."

Vivian couldn't help it; boisterous laughter burst forth from her, her shoulders shook as she laughed loudly; leaning backwards first, then forwards with her palms landing silently on the table top. Between gasps for breath Vivian sputtered, "All you can say is she's hot? She's your boss. You can't even remember her _name_?"

"I can," Hodgins protested, "It's just escaping me for the moment."

She continued to laugh, ignoring the elderly couple watching her distastefully from a few tables over. Though he enjoyed seeing her laugh, Hodgins glowered at his friend, "It's not _that_ funny."

"Yeah, it kind of is," Vivian ignored the stares from an older couple a few tables away.

------------------------------

Brennan reached for her ringing cell phone from where it lay on the desk. Flipping it open and wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she continued to work along on her computer, she answered with the customary, "Brennan."

"Hello Doctor Brennan, this is Doctor McGillvary's office calling," An overly bubbly, barely post-adolescent voice replied, "Would you please hold?"

"Alright," Brennan agreed uncertainly, curious as to what was going on, what the doctor had to say. _Had something come back in one of her tests?_

"Alright-y then, one moment please," The girl chirruped, and soft elevator music began to play over the line.

Brennan tried to focus on her computer screen as she waited; not on the musical rendition of _Muskrat Love_ that was playing, nor the slight unease she was feeling. Soon though, Dr. McGillvary's voice cut through the music,

"Hello?" He didn't pause before asking, "Doctor Brennan?"

"Hello," Brennan replied flatly.

"Doctor Brennan," McGillvary skipped the pleasantries he may have engaged in had he been speaking to any other patient. But he knew Brennan, and knew she wouldn't oblige. Instead, he pressed right into his reason for calling, "I have the results of your blood tests back."

-----------------------

"So," Vivian asked as she dropped in a completely unladylike fashion into her favorite armchair, "You ever find out the new boss's name, my curly-haired conspiracy theorist?"

Hodgins squinted at her from across the room. While Vivian continued to smile at him; Zack tried not to notice the exchange,

"The new department head? Her name is Doctor Saroyan. She's a pathologist; used to be a coroner."

"See?" Vivian teased, tossing a pillow at Hodgins, "_Zack _can get a name."

While Zack preened, Hodgins mocked,

"Zack's all empirical logic. But me?" Hodgins placed a hand on his chest with a goofy look on his face, "I'm part heart," He then launched the pillow back, but it bounced off her head, "Viv? You there?"

She shook herself a bit, bringing her attention back around, "Did you say Dr. Saroyan? As in Doctor Camille Saroyan?" She asked, letting the pillow lie on the floor.

"Uh, yeah, I believe so," Zack answered, confused.

"Why?" Hodgins squinted.

"Oh crap," Vivian started to mutter, crawling from the chair and fidgeting, "Oh crappity-crap-crap."

"Vivian?" Zack called, and Hodgins added,

"What's wrong?"

But the only answer they received didn't clarify anything for them. Instead, it caused more confusion, "Has Brennan met her yet?"

"Yeah."

"Crap," She hissed again, "What about Seeley?"

Taking a second to realize that Seeley was Booth, the two squints were shaking their heads or shrugging their shoulders.

Before she could answer; her phone began vibrating across the coffee table, and she pounced on it, "Good evening Clarice," She greeted whoever was on the line.

"I take it you've heard," Booth snickered onto the line.

"It's been mentioned. What're you gonna do?"

"Do?"

"Obviously you're either calling me for advice in informing your lady-love, or because you need a couch for the night," Vivian summed up quickly, "Have you told _your wife_ about your previously torrid connection to _her new supervisor_?"

"It wasn't _torrid_," Her brother quickly disputed, "It was," He trailed off there, and she picked up the connection,

"Yeah, because _torrid _doesn't even _begin _to cover the noises that scarred me for life," She jokingly concluded briefly,

"We—what? Jesus Viv, honey I'm sorry, if I had," Here she had to cut off his guilt-ridden rant to inform him,

"Seeley, big-brother-man, slow your roll on the guilt train. None of my scars are your fault," Vivian swallowed, and then grabbed hold of the conversation before he turned it to ask about those scars, "You have to tell Bren, _before _she hears about it from somebody else. Somebody like, oh, I don't know, Camille?"

Booth groaned on the other end of the line. Knowing his little sister was right, he let her have her subject change, for now, "I know, I know kid. I'll tell her. I will."

"Soon."

"Soon."

"Like right now, even."

He was rolling his eyes, she was sure of it, "All right kiddo, I've got it."

"Okay," Vivian pushed a small smile into her voice, "I like her Seeley. And I like that she loves my big brother. You deserve someone who loves you."

"Thank you Vivian," The moment would have resulted in a hug, had the two been face-to-face, but instead it ended up with soft smiles on either side of the telephone line, "You deserve that too honey."

As she ended the call with her brother and returned to the living room from where she'd wandered into the kitchen during the conversation, she was met with identical stares of confusion.

"What?" She asked, shrugging.

"Nothing," Hodgins evaded, following her lead, and Zack was even more befuddled at the meaning behind the gaze the other two shared.

_-----------------_

_Okay, I realize that this chapter has a lot of Author's Notes, but I have just a couple more remarks to make. _

_In regards to Zack, there are two ways the story can go. One, he can exit, as he did on the show, and the story can progress without him. Or two, I can skip the Gormogon thing completely, in respect of him being the evil apprentice. And so I open it up to the floor, as I can proceed on either route._

_Also, I've been reading over the older chapters, and making them over a bit. It isn't anything story-shattering, but perhaps a few explanation bits that should have been included when the original chapters were posted. I haven't posted most of the "improved" chapters, but I have been thinking about revamping a few of them to make some parts of them clearer, and possibly alter the Booth siblings back-story just a tad with what we've most recently learned about the parental Booths. The changes shouldn't require a re-read of the earlier chapters; this is just a heads-up that they might be a little different than when we left off. _


End file.
